


In Your Eyes

by beautifullights



Series: The Light That Never Fails [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Soldier Survivor Finn, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Finn Deals with His Trauma, Fluff, Grey-Ace Poe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peace Activism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Burn, Torture Survivor Poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullights/pseuds/beautifullights
Summary: After a rousingget-a-grip-on-yourselfspeech, a quick glare at his reflection in the mirror, a flick of fingers in his hair to settle his curls back into place—another glare, worse than the first—and a tired sigh, Poe headed back out into the low evening sunshine.Finn greeted him with a glorious smile.As Poe grinned back at Finn, flush with delight, his sensible cool-the-fuck-down speech melted into a puddle at his feet and slunk off into the lovely summer evening to find someone with more common sense.NOW COMPLETE





	1. there's always a real story

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part of a completed 100k tripartite series: Poe's story, Finn's story, and the story of their relationship. It will be equally Finn- and Poe-centric (no, really, it will; I have a spreadsheet where I keep track of the wordcount in each POV). It will also visit some dark themes - I will post specific warnings for each chapter. If you're coming here from the Poe/Finn tag and haven't read the first two sections, you may want to read them first, as this fic relies on some themes that were introduced previously. But I think it might still make sense without the prior two fics, if you want to jump right in. 
> 
> Thanks so much to StarMaple, OnceUponAGalaxyFarFarAway, Conn8d, Zoe_Dameron, LeftWingLibrarian, and TuppingLiberty for betaing and/or helping me figure out this fic. Many thanks also to the Star Wars Writing Alliance for your support and encouragement. 
> 
> Thanks to Cognomen for pointing out that In Your Eyes is also the title of a Peter Gabriel song. I just listened to it, and it turns out that it fits this fic perfectly. Why didn't I ever listen to the lyrics before? Who the fuck knows. 
> 
> And a thousand bountiful thanks to MayGlenn for believing in me - it means a lot, it really does, always. Thank you. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: References to child soldiers and past torture, reference to homophobia, Poe makes a rude assumption about Finn.

_September 19th, 2015_

“Any other questions?” The auditorium was finally silent, which was probably a good thing, as they’d already gone well past their scheduled timeslot. “Great!” Poe grinned out at the students. “Thanks for coming to listen to the panel. I’ve been told by the organizers that it’s lunchtime now, so: have fun, and see you back here in…” He shrugged. “Well, it was supposed to be an hour and a half. Forty-five minutes now, I guess. So. Don’t get too crazy.”

He was gathering up his papers and trying to fit them all into his briefcase when his elbow slipped and knocked his coffee mug—no, not over. A hand steadied it and set it back upright before it could spill. Poe looked up and smiled. “Thanks! Hey. You had another question?”

The man nodded. He was…startlingly attractive, but Poe wasn’t going to think about that now, because he was a professional, not to mention fuck knew how many years older than this kid.

“I just wanted to thank you,” the man continued. “For the work that you do. It’s incredibly important.” He had a slight accent, soft and fluid.

“Well.” Poe shrugged. “Not sure how effective we’ll ever be. I mean—the war’s still on, and probably will always be.” He took a breath, let it out. “But—thank you.”  

The man smiled. “It’s important not to give up. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Poe smiled back. “It is. I mean—for me, at least. I’ll be here as long as it takes. We’ll see how it goes. Thanks for your support, though. It means a lot to me. What’s your name?”

“Finn. Finn Akindele.” He extended a hand to Poe.

“Good to meet you, Finn.” Poe shook Finn’s hand. It was dry, and warm, and callused. “I’m—”

“Commander Dameron. It’s, uh. All over the event.”

“Right.” Poe shook his head. “Well. Just Poe, please. I’ve been out of the service for years now. I asked them not to put Commander on the posters, but…I guess that got lost in the shuffle somewhere.”

“Lots of things do,” Finn laughed. “Oh, and I also wanted to ask—how did you get started in peace activism?”

Poe’s smile slipped, caught itself, regained its footing. “I, uh. Well. I told you, I mean—the Air Force, and—coming back here, and—”

“You told us the official version. I’m curious what the real story is.”

Poe looked at him for a moment. Cocked his head. “What makes you think that wasn’t the real story?”

Finn just looked at him and smiled. Poe tightened his grip on his briefcase, willing himself to stay focused. _Fuck,_ that was a smile. “There’s always a real story,” Finn said, very soft.

Poe blinked. “Yeah,” he said, equally soft. “There is.”

A pair of students poked their heads into the auditorium. “Mr. Dameron!” one called. “We’ve been sent to fetch you for lunch. There’s only about half an hour left until the next presentation.”

“Be there in a sec!” Poe called. He cocked his head toward the door. “Want to join us?”

Finn’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “I—would love that. Yeah. Is that ok?”

“Of course. I—” Poe paused. “I can’t promise you the real story.”

Finn nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

For a moment, Poe wondered whether he was actually a student. No eighteen-year-old should have eyes that old.

“I’d love to talk with you more about what you do, though,” Finn added. “I think I’d like to do something similar.”

“Good!” Poe shoved the bubbles in his stomach down into his briefcase beneath the pile of papers for the conference, flicked the clasps shut, and locked it tightly. “We can always use more peaceniks.”

 

 

 

It was, of course, theoretically possible that Finn would one day get used to the vast array of food available in the dining hall. He insisted on paying for himself—he lived in an apartment with Rey, off the meal plan, to save money—even though it was vastly overpriced. The chance to keep talking to the presenter was well worth it, and of course he wasn’t going to let Dameron pay for his lunch, no matter how charmingly he smiled. _Stop thinking about that smile! Calm down._

“So, tell me about yourself,” Dameron said. “How’d you get interested in activist work?”

Finn took a breath and flicked his eyes to either side. The students assigned to be Dameron’s hosts during the conference were listening eagerly. The general din of the dining hall would cover most of their conversation, and he’d gotten used to telling the story, but it still—well.

“I, uh,” Finn said, impressing himself as always with his sheer, unadulterated eloquence. He rubbed his forehead and tried to find the words.

“You don’t have to,” Dameron said, voice dropping to an undertone. Finn looked up to find Dameron propping his elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand. “I was just curious.”  

“No, no, it’s ok! It’s just—kind of a long story. Without a punchline.”

“Does it have a happy ending?” Dameron’s smiling at him, soft and sweet and _I told you to stop thinking about that smile! Calm the fuck down._

“Kind of?” Finn said.

Dameron raised his brows.

“I was a child soldier,” Finn said.

Dameron’s eyes widened. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough.

Finn shrugged. “ _Was_ .” He smiled, crooked and bittersweet. “I told you the story has kind of a happy ending. I’m here, aren’t I? So. That’s why I’m interested. I don’t want _anyone_ to shoot, or be shot. _Ever_ again. Killing—” He found himself leaning halfway across the table, face-to-face with Dameron’s intense eyes— “doesn’t solve anything. Makes everything worse. It needs to stop, and I—I want to be a part of that.”

Dameron’s face lit up. “Damn right.” He reached out to Finn again, across the table, and shook his hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

Finn smiled back at him. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean—get your degree first. They’re useful. But once you’re done, come find me. I’ll see if I can get you an audience with Leia. She’s ridiculously busy, but I’m sure she’d want to talk to you.”

“Thank you! Wow. Can I ask—you said it was more of a story. How did you get interested in activism? Do you mind telling me?”

“I, uh. Got—shot down. Taken. Captive. They.” Poe stared down at his hands. “Held me hostage. For a year. Eventually, I got back here. Organa recruited me. Here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn said softly.

Poe’s eyes flicked back up to his. “For what? Not your fault. Anyway. Plenty of others in the world had it worse, no? I mean—your story. I can’t even imagine.”

Finn shrugged. “Why go comparing? Waste of time. It hurt you, yeah? Then it hurt. And I’m sorry.”

“Well. Thanks. You’re probably the wisest eighteen-year-old I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Twenty-three, actually,” Finn laughed. “But thanks.”

The student’s phone pinged. She blinked down at it, startled. “We should get back,” she said reluctantly. “For the next session.”

“Right! Yeah, okay. Um.” Poe stood quickly, gathered his things, then stopped and looked at Finn. “We never really got a chance to talk about what I do, as an activist. And I’d like to hear your ideas. I have a feeling you’ve got some good ones.”

Finn tilted his head. “Sure,” he said, stomach fluttering with equal parts nerves and excitement. “I do have some ideas I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Great.” Poe grinned at him. “Meet me after the conference, then? I don’t really know what restaurants are good around here.”

“I’d love to,” Finn said, and grinned right back.

 

 

 

The late-summer air was thick and humid around Poe’s shoulders as he walked out of the conference room. Finn was there, talking eagerly with another of the panelists. His hands flew in the air as he spoke, lit with passion.

Poe ducked into the bathroom to have a huddle between him and himself.

 _Fuck it, Dameron, you haven’t been this lovestruck since…what, high school? Get a fucking grip on yourself! He’s—ok, fine, he’s twenty-three, that’s not so young, but he’s still a student. Life ahead of him, and all that. He’s interested in your fucking_ work, _not your personality, which is really not charming anymore, if it ever was. You don’t even know whose team he’s on. Chill. The fuck. Out._

After that rousing speech, a quick glare at his reflection in the mirror, a flick of fingers in his hair to settle his curls back into place—another glare, worse than the first—and a tired sigh, he headed back out into the low evening sunshine, ready to talk about _work_.

Finn greeted him with a glorious smile.

As Poe grinned back at Finn, flush with delight, his sensible cool-the-fuck-down speech melted into a puddle at his feet and slunk off into the lovely summer evening to find someone with more common sense.

 

 

 

Dameron— _Poe,_ Finn reminded himself, still astonished to be on a first-name basis with such an incredible man—insisted on paying, despite Finn’s protests. Their conversation was a sparkling mess in his mind—stories about life on the road, arguments with politicians, anecdotes about _Leia Organa_ herself, wonder of wonders. Crinkling eyes, dark tousled curls, expressive hands, flashing teeth. Poe listened to all of Finn’s ideas, took them seriously, even wrote a few down to discuss with Leia later.

All too soon, they were on the street again, walking the few short blocks back to the station so Poe could catch his train home. Finn motioned to a small park and suggested they cut through it. “Long ride home tonight?” he asked, as they turn onto the winding, green-lit pathway.  

“Nah. I live right in the city. Just a fifteen-minute ride or so, bit of a walk.”

“Nice,” Finn nodded. “You like it there?”

Poe shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t go exploring very much. Just…you know. Apartment, office, parks, grocery stores…what else do I need?”

Finn laughed. “Sounds like me.”

Poe grinned up at him. “Yeah? Planning to have a bachelor pad of your own someday?”

Finn frowned down at him. “No! No, I want to have a family someday.”

“Right, of course. Well. Me too, for that matter.”

“You don’t have one?” Finn cocked his head in surprise. He looked at Poe’s left hand—empty, sure enough, just as it had been at the beginning of the evening—but that didn’t mean much. Not all married men wore rings.

Poe snorted. “Nope. Unless you count wandering around my apartment muttering to myself about how maybe I should actually try to go out on a date someday with some nice dude.”

Poe’s steps faltered for a moment. Finn looked at him in concern, just in time to see a flash of terror cross Poe’s face. “Poe? Mr. Dameron? Are you all right?”

“Yeah!” Poe grinned, flat and strange like radio static.

“Poe.” Finn stopped and folded his arms across his chest.

“Don’t worry about it.” Poe kept walking.  

Finn sighed.

Poe stopped and stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I—can find my way back to the station from here. It’s okay.”

“ _Offend_ me? What the hell?”

“I—” Poe rubbed a hand across his forehead. He still wouldn't look back at Finn. Finally he sighed and waved a hand in the air in dismissal. “I realize that you come from a conservative country, I have no idea what your views are, and I just accidentally outed myself, and now I’m kicking myself, I lasted nine years under DADT, what is it about you that I blow it in one conversation with—”

“Are you done yet? Because I can wait, if you’re not. It sounds like you’ve got some important things to get off your chest there. Don’t let me get in the way of you kicking yourself. I’m not sure how that’s physically possible, but it sounds like it’s an important thing you have to do now, so please, go ahead. Enjoy.”

Poe turned around very slowly. “What?”

Finn shrugged. “You’re concerned that I have negative views about homosexuality, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Poe said roughly.

“Well. I don't. I'm bi.”

Poe blinked. His face tried on and discarded at least fifteen different emotions while Finn stood there and watched him, fascinated. “You’re—” Poe said at last. "You're bisexual.”

“Yes, Dameron. I'm bi. Bisexual. Attracted to more than one gender. That is what I mean.”

Poe laughed, short and sharp. “You’re  kidding me.”

“Nope. Any other questions?”

“You were pulling my fucking leg back there.”

“You pulled mine first.” Finn lost his smile.

“I did.” Poe was dead serious. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have just assumed like that.”

“Forgiven. Please don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I’m—really sorry, Finn. God, I’d be fucking pissed if someone did that to me.”

“It’s okay, Poe.”

“Seriously. That was a dick thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

“Are you done kicking yourself yet?”

“I try not to be a dick, you know?”

“I know you do,” Finn sighed. “I don’t think you said that because you’re an asshole. I think after nine years under DADT, you’re paranoid.”

Poe snorted. “Huh. Well. Maybe, I guess. Still doesn’t excuse it.”

"Then don't do it again.” Finn folded his arms across his chest. “I said, I forgive you for it.”

Poe looked at his feet. “Thank you.”

“At any rate,” Finn continued, “you’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Of course.” Poe’s eyes flicked back up. “Where else would I look? We were having a conversation. About work. It’s not like this is a date or anything, I get that. I—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been looking at you too.”

Poe blinked.

Finn stretched a hand out towards him. Poe stared at it. Just as Finn was about to pull back, face hot— _he read the signals all wrong, leapt a hundred miles ahead of himself, he has no idea what he’s doing, what the fuck does he think he’s—_ Poe took his hand. Poe’s palm was cool in his, very slightly callused.

The furrow in Poe’s brow sunk deeper, a trench in the sand. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said quietly.

“Are you done with the pity party?”

“You’re a kid. You’ve got your whole fucking life ahead of you. I—”

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Finn said, low and hard. “I have never been a kid. I like you, Poe Dameron.” His jaw tightened. “You’re not fucking broken. A car is broken, it doesn’t run. People don’t _break_. They get hurt, yeah? And then they get better, or they find a way to live with the hurt.”

“I _have_ been ‘finding a way.’ Counselors, and meds, and it helps, sure, it helps, but it doesn’t fucking _fix_ it—”

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re waiting to get better, yeah? Before you go looking for Mr. Right?”

Poe flinched back. “Don’t you fucking make fun of me—”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make fun of you. What I’m trying to say.” Finn dropped Poe’s hand and folded his hands on his hips. “I like you. I _really_ like you. I want to try this. With you. Do you want to try it, too? That’s the only question that matters.”

Poe looked at him for a long time, silent. “It’s not just—DADT,” he managed at last. “I’m—” He stopped. “Not. A very functional person, all the time. They. Didn’t just—capture. They.” His voice cracked. “Tortured me. I. Get—flashbacks. A lot. Panic attacks. I—lose days, sometimes. It’s—I don’t—I haven’t—”

Finn cradled Poe’s hand in both of his and waited.

“I haven’t. Really. Thought about starting a relationship in—in years. _Years._ I—” Poe bit his lip.

“Do you want to think about it now?” Finn asked softly. His heart pounded between his temples like the kickback of an assault rifle.

Poe stared down at their joined hands. There was a small crescent scar at the base of Poe’s thumb, a faint slash across Finn’s knuckles. The lamplight bent and folded around their fingers—shadows and glimmers and calluses and lines. Finn could feel the rapid stutter of Poe’s own pulse beneath his fingers.

“I do,” Poe rasped at last, and raised his eyes to Finn’s.

Finn swallowed. “Good,” he said, suddenly hoarse. “Good. That’s—good. I’m glad.”

Poe nodded. He stared at Finn.

Finn stared back. Waited.

Poe stepped closer.

He cupped a hand around Finn’s face, slowly, like Finn was a gazelle that might—just—bolt. Leaned in closer. Finn could feel Poe’s hand shaking on his cheek. He waited.

Poe pressed his lips to Finn’s. Stumbled closer, wrapped a hand around Finn’s neck, drew him in. Finn’s breath stuttered as he leaned into Poe’s embrace. Poe’s tongue slipped between Finn’s parted lips. Finn’s hands found Poe’s back, slid down, wrapped around his waist. He could hear Poe’s heart racing against his own. Poe kissed him harder, forceful, fierce, insistent. Furious. He made a small sound in his throat, then another.

It took Finn another breath to realize that Poe was crying. He cupped the back of Poe’s head, eased Poe’s head down to his shoulder, and cradled him there—one arm around Poe’s waist, one hand on the back of his head. Fingers tangling in his curls. Poe gripped him just as tightly, like he never wanted to let Finn go.

The feeling struck Finn in the solar plexus, stole his breath from his lungs. Keeping Poe _safe_ , within his arms. Being held by Poe, like—like he was something precious, worth protecting, a miracle. It was intoxicating. It was like—like—

Like after all of his wanderings, homeless and wary, he had finally found his home.

It took Finn a long time to realize that he was crying, too.  

 

 

 

_September 23rd, 2015_

**2:34pm Poe:** What are you up to this afternoon? I’m going to finish the Oklahoma City presentation prep far earlier than I thought I would. Love to meet up with you, if you’re free.

 **2:35pm Finn:** Oh man! That would be great. Hooray for free time, yeah? Do you want to meet up for coffee?

 **2:47pm Poe:** Coffee sounds great! Where/when?

 **2:48pm Finn:** How about at 4? Do you know the Golden Beanstalk?

 **2:50pm Poe:** Just googled it. Sounds good. See you there!

 **2:51pm Finn:** :D

 **2:54pm Finn:** Oh god this is technically our first date, isn’t it? Is this going to be awkward?

 **2:55pm Poe:** Am I ever awkward?

 **2:55pm Finn:** I have the right to remain silent, right?

 **2:56pm Poe:** Just for that, you’re buying me a muffin at this place.

 **2:56pm Finn:** Okay. Blueberry crumbs would look great in your hair.

 **2:57pm Poe:** A muffin in my hair. I don’t believe it. The things I put up with around here.

 **3:04pm Finn:** Believe it.

 **3:04pm Finn:** My roommate wanted to know why I was laughing so hard. I told her I was making fun of you. She asked if you deserved it. I said yes.

 **3:05pm Poe:** I will get you back for this.

 **3:05pm Finn:** I look forward to it.

 

“Oh my god,” Jess groaned. “Get that fucking smile off your face.”

Poe beamed at her.

“You,” Jess grumbled, “are impossible.” She shoved her chair back and pushed to her feet. “You know that, Dameron?”

“I’ll ask Finn if he’s got any friends.”

“I do not need you meddling in my sex life, Dameron, thank you very much.” Jess stomped across the room to the break table. “I can fuck it up all by myself.” The office coffee machine gurgled and hissed out a mugful for her. Crisp rip-snap of a sugar packet, rattle of a spoon, and Jess stomped back to her desk.

On her way back, she patted Poe’s shoulder. Poe looked up at her. Jess slid into her seat, thunked her mug down onto her desk, and scowled at her laptop.

“Love you too, Pava,” Poe said.

She flipped him a finger.

Poe smiled. Several minutes later, he remembered to get back to work.

 

 

 

_October 3rd, 2015_

Finn relaxed back onto his elbows and squinted up at the sky. “God, I don’t even remember the last time I was so relaxed.”

Poe grinned down at him and nudged his side. “I should take you here more often, huh? Lazy days in the park are so much better than a massage.”

“Mmm.” Finn closed his eyes against the bright sunshine. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He yawns wide. “Really good.”

“Doesn’t it?” Poe stuffed the remains of their picnic into the bag, shoved it aside, and slid down next to him. Finn patted around the blanket until he found Poe’s arm, then tugged him closer. Poe rolled onto his side, pillowed his head on his arm, and nuzzled into Finn’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Finn mumbled. “Yes, this.” He found Poe’s hair and tangled his fingers in the sunwarmed strands.

Poe inhaled deeply, just to get a full breath of the Old Spice-coconut tang of Finn’s skin. “You always smell like coconut,” he mumbled.

“My hair,” Finn yawned. “Coconut oil. How else do you think I get this luscious fade?”

“Nice,” Poe snorted.

Finn laughed. “I learned from a friend, freshman year. He used it on _everything._ I could use a kind of coconut oil that doesn’t smell like coconut, but, like—what would be the point of that?”

“A damn shame,” Poe agreed, and stretched.

“Mmm.” Finn scratched Poe’s scalp.

Poe didn't purr, he didn't. That would be undignified, and he was nothing but dignified—oh, who was he fucking kidding? With Finn’s fingers in his hair, Poe purred like a goddamn housecat in the sun.

Poe blinked awake. “What?” he said.

Finn tugged him closer. “I dreamt about this,” he murmured again.

“Hmm? Oh. Mmm.” He yawns so hard his jaw nearly cracked. “Isn’t it just deja vu? Dreaming about this. You probably just—”

“No,” Finn said, soft and sure. “I dreamt about this. And I hadn’t even met you yet.”

Poe was quiet for a while. “That’s lovely,” he said at last. “I’m glad.” He nudged Finn’s shoulder with his nose. “You deserve good dreams.”

“Mmm?”

“Always,” Poe murmured. “Only good things.” Lulled by the warm sun, he watched the slow rise and fall of Finn’s chest until…until until until…

 

 

 

Finn’s quiet giggle woke him up. “No, don’t move!” Finn whispered when Poe started to open his eyes.

“Mmm?” Poe blinked up at him. There was something bright and yellow and moving in his vision. He turned his head to see it better—

A gorgeous, sunshine-yellow swallowtail butterfly flitted off his face into the park. Finn’s face was suffused with delight. “It landed on your nose about five minutes ago and just stayed there. Flapped its wings a bit every time you breathed.”

“Oh, god.” Poe rubbed his nose as though he would find another one there, ready to grace him with its beauty. “Um.”

Finn cupped Poe’s face to him and kissed his nose. “It was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“Oh,” Poe said. His cheeks were fiercely hot—with the sun, it must have just been too much sun, he wasn't blushing or anything, of course not. “Um.” He sat up. “Should we—we should—”

“We can stay here as long as you want,” Finn said softly. “I’m on fall break. You’re on—well. Weekend break.”

“Yeah?” Poe squinted across the field. A family was picnicking under a set of trees across the path. An old couple slowly walked their ancient poodle to the dog park, hand in hand. A pair of boys were playing catch with a baseball and a pair of brand-new gloves and _terrible_ technique, good god who was coaching these two, they were both wearing hats for the neighborhood team but _seriously, pull your arm back further—_

“Poe,” Finn said again, laughing. “Earth to Poe. Where’d you go, man?”

“Oh.” Poe turned back. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“They’re cute, aren’t they?”

“What?”

Finn motions across the path. “The kids. Weren’t you—”

“Oh, no. I was looking at the baseball players over there. Awful technique.”

“Criticizing their technique, Dameron? Do you even know how to play?”

Poe sat up straight, offended. “I played Little League for years and I was one of the pitchers for my high school baseball team, thank you very much!”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. Did you ever play?”

“Nah. They waived my gym requirement in high school because I entered so late, and I was studying all the time to catch up, so I never had time after school for a sport.”

“Hmm.” Poe reached for Finn’s hand and plays with his fingers, considering. “That’s a damn shame. I’m sorry about that. Sports are fun.”

“Yeah?” Finn shrugged. “I mean, I played soccer sometimes, in the camp. That was fun. Got pretty competitive sometimes.”

“Really? I never really played soccer. Outside of a few weeks in gym, at least. You should teach me your skills one of these days.”

“You never played soccer?” Finn stared at Poe in mock horror. “It’s the best sport!”

Poe shrugged. “I, uh.” He shifted on the picnic blanket. “I was going for the all-American card, I guess. Felt too stereotypical, the little Latino kid playing soccer.”

“Huh.” Finn played with a strand of grass for a moment. “Well. I get that, I guess. But, like—why did you care?”

Poe blinked. “Why not?”

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess—eventually, sometime at the camp, it became very clear to me that I would never really fit in. I mean—anywhere. So—I never really bothered to try.”

“But didn't you get—I mean—it’s hard to be different. Didn’t you get bullied for it?”

Finn shrugged. “Not really, no. No one really cared, I guess. Maybe they felt sorry for me? I don’t know.” He picked at another strand of grass and traced it along the curve of Poe’s knee. “I mean, they weren’t always super welcoming, and I definitely got a lot of, like, weird looks. Comments. Shit like that. But I mean, no one actually beat me up or anything.” His lips twist into something that wasn't quite a smile. “Probably thought I’d beat them up worse if they tried.”

“Shit.” Poe’s hands stilled on Finn’s. “I’m sorry. But it’s probably for the best, because otherwise, I’d have to go beat them up, and that would mean getting up, so nope.”

_Wrong thing to say, Dameron, that was stupid and dumb and probably sounded like you were making light of Finn’s life. But I just—I just don’t know what to say, fuck, what do you say to that, how could I possibly—_

“I’m sorry,” Poe said again. “I’m so  _sorry._ I wish they hadn’t done that. I wish people weren’t fucking assholes sometimes.”

“You snark when you’re nervous,” Finn said. “Ever noticed that?”

Poe blinked. “What?”

“Never mind. Look, that’s life, isn’t it? Some people are assholes. Some aren’t. I don’t have the energy to deal with the ones who are, so I try to just spend time with the ones who aren’t. If I got mad at everyone who’d ever hurt me, I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else.” Finn leaned back on the blanket. “Rey always says that the best revenge is living well. So.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Along with taking them down eventually.”

Poe stared at him. “You know,” he managed at last, throat tight. “When you say things like that, I just—I want to wrap you in a blanket and cuddle you long enough to make enough good memories to outweigh the bad ones.”

Finn’s soft smile was enough to make Poe’s throat close up altogether. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Making good memories.”

“As many as you want, buddy,” Poe rasped.

Finn smiled and threw the blade of grass at his face. “See, this is why I keep you around.” 

"Glad to be of service." Poe lay back down on the blanket, snuggled in close to Finn, and closed his eyes. “Hey,” he said at last, feeling the sun sink deep into his bones. “Speaking of happy memories. Want to learn how to throw a baseball?”

 

 

_October 10th, 2015_

Finn cocked his arm back, set his eyes on the glove Poe was bracing up before his chest, and snapped the ball across the field. Poe shifted slightly to the left to catch it with a solid _thunk_ in his worn glove. Finn settled his jacket back over his shoulders and waited for Poe to throw it back. It was a little chilly this morning, but they’d been planning this ever since Poe finally went back home for a weekend to get his old gloves and a couple of baseballs, and they weren’t going to give in just for a bit of cold.

“You know,” Poe called to Finn, “it’s really not fair that you learn things so fast. I have so many encouraging speeches at the ready for when you get frustrated, but you haven’t gotten frustrated even once so far, and you just _get_ it so easily, and I just—” He threw the ball back to Finn. Finn stretched high and caught it in Kes’ old glove. “I’m just kind of in awe, is all,” Poe continued, punching his glove and settling back into position.

Finn grinned at him. “When you got it, you got it, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Poe grinned right back, eyes bright. “Let ‘er rip, Akindele.”

 _Akindele._ Finn swallowed hard. He resumed his stance, cocked his leg up, and snapped the ball straight into Poe’s glove. Poe just stared at him dazedly for a moment. “Dameron,” Finn said, and started to cross the field to him.

Poe blinked and shook his head. “What?” He looked at his glove. “Oh. Wait, when did you—shit.”

“You didn’t actually want to teach me how to throw a baseball,” Finn said. He halted one step away from Poe and cocked his hands on his hips. “You just wanted to watch me throw one.”

Poe blinked. “Um,” he said.

Finn smirked at Poe, just to see the sweet wobble in Poe’s knees. “It’s okay, man.” He kissed Poe’s cheek. “Why do you think I agreed?”

“Oh,” Poe said. His brow creased in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Really.” Finn nodded at the ball in his hand. “Come on, Dameron. Let’s see how you move.”

Poe nodded, gripped the ball tighter, wound his arm back, picked up his leg, whirled toward Finn, linked his glove arm around Finn’s shoulders, and kissed him until he was clutching at Poe’s back for balance, swaying on the frost-crisp grass. “That’s,” Poe gasped at last, letting go, “how I move.” He whipped his arm back, cocked his leg in, and snapped the ball straight across the field, all the way to the edge of the trees.

Finn set a hand on the small of Poe’s back.

Poe turned toward Finn.

Finn grinned at Poe. “You’re really hot when you do that,” he said.

“Oh.” Poe flushed bright red. “Wait. What? Really?”

“Really,” Finn said, and dipped him into a deep kiss.


	2. netflix and chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: implied dissociative episode, brief vaguely implied fears of someone else's possible suicidal ideation, references to scars.

_October 14th, 2015_

**10:24am Finn:** Hey! What time did you want to meet up for lunch today? My class gets out at noon, so I’m free for anything after that.

 **1:13pm Poe:** no

What? Finn stared at his phone.

Maybe Poe was swamped at work? Maybe he had to go speak at an unexpected conference, so he was out of town for the day. Maybe he was going to say something more, but his phone died. Maybe he was just the kind of jerk who cancels hours later without any kind of apology or explanation. Or maybe he was done with their brief relationship. Ghosting, wasn’t that the word?

Finn looked up at the quiet sidewalk. A fly approached his leg—he swatted it away and shifted on the splintery bench slats, stiff from sitting and waiting for an hour. The bagel shop’s green-and-white awning flapped in the breeze, billowed, ebbed. He didn’t—he didn’t even understand—why would Poe _say_ that?

What the fuck.

A rush of panic spun Finn’s head. He closed his eyes and breathed as it slowly faded, leaving only the quiet hunger he’d been ignoring while he waited here for Poe to respond to his text. Expecting the usual exuberance, exclamation marks, maybe even a bagel emoji. Not one word, no punctuation, no explanation, just: no.

What the _fuck._

Finn shoved the phone back into his pocket, stretched stiff legs, and stood. The door to the bagel shop dinged over his head as he walked in. He stared up at the chalkboard menu, trying to cut off the _confusedpanickedangry_ diatribe playing in his head long enough to actually read the words. The bell chimed again. He turned, hoping against hope that it was—nope. A stranger walked in, carrying a baby in a sling across his chest, and held the door open for his wife.

Finn’s eyes snagged on the baby and held. He dragged his gaze away before it could get too creepy and focused on the cases of refrigerated drinks instead, still watching the child out of the corner of his eye. He was good at this, after all. Watching-without-watching. The baby woke up with a small murmur and waved an arm out of the sling. The father smiled down at it and ran a finger down its arm; the baby grabbed on tight. The father laughed and waved his finger. The baby giggled. The connection between them was sweet, loving, beautiful—

Finn dragged his eyes away again and tried to find the wherewithal to feign interest in lunch. He checked his phone: still silent. What was going on? This just wasn’t like Poe. Why would he do that? It was like there was something wrong with him, or—

Oh.

_SHIT._

Finn was outside, in the relative privacy of the cigarette-infused alleyway, before he even realized he’d left the cafe. He leaned his head against the sun-warmed brick wall, took a deep breath, and pulled out his phone.

 

 

 

Poe’s phone chimed with a text message alert. It’s not the FIFA theme for Jess, nor the _pick up your damn phone, son_ recording for Kes, so he closed his eyes again and curled up tighter. That quick, cheery chime just meant _some dipshit thinks it’s a good idea to talk to you right now,_ which was obviously ridiculous, so he ignored it and tried to go back to sleep.

 

 

 

Finn made it to nearly 5 o’clock before panicking, which he considered a pretty good accomplishment. Poe was an adult, after all, he’d been dealing with his shit for years now, he must have had ways to to take care of himself without a random meddler. But _what if_ , said his brain, _what if, people have been known to do weird shit, and by weird shit I mean—_

 _Shut the fuck up, brain._ Finn pulled out his phone. A quick search later, he was listening to some smooth jazz hold music and muttering _pick up pick up pick up—_

“Good evening, this is Resistance Peace Initiatives. Sorry for the wait, our secretary’s already gone home. How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” Finn cleared his throat and straightened up in his desk chair. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Dameron, please.”

“Mr. Dameron’s not in today. Can I take a message?”

“Do you—have you heard from him at all?”

“He’s not in today,” the voice repeated, slightly acidic now. “But I can give him a message when he gets back.”

“I’m just—” Finn covered his eyes. “I’m worried about him,” he said, very quiet. “Have you talked to him today? Do you know if he’s ok?”

Short pause, then: “Who is this?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Finn Akindele. I’m—kind of a friend of his?”

“ _Finn!”_ The voice broadened and relaxed from its pseudosecretarial formality. “No way! Good to finally meet you. Poe’s, uh…talked about you. A lot. I’m Jess, by the way, I—”

“Is he ok?” Finn interrupted, voice tight.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa. He’s fine! Or, he will be. He hasn’t had a day like this in a really long time, but we’ve still got a system. His dad and I take turns texting him every few hours. He responds to us, and if he doesn’t I go to his apartment and check on him. I’ve got a spare key. He’ll be okay,” Jess assured him. “What happened, he didn’t show for something? Not responding to your texts?”

“Both,” Finn sighed, intensely relieved. He unclenched his deathgrip on his pen, set it back on his desk, then picked it up again, rubbing his thumb along the smooth barrel. “Oh, thank god. I was—”

“Worried, huh?” The warm humor in Jess’ voice was so much like Poe’s.

“Yeah, I—I’m sorry to bother you. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Jess replied easily. “I’m glad you called. It’s—” Long pause. The pen glinted silver in the fluorescent gleam of Finn’s desk lamp. “It’s nice,” was all she said. “I’m glad he has you.”

 

 

 

Poe startled awake as a fire engine wails its way down his street. As the siren faded out around the corner, he squinted out into his apartment. His phone’s text notification light was still blinking. He scowled at it, threw his arm back over his face, turned over, and buried his face in the couch cushions. He could still hear the light blinking behind him. It wormed its way into his brain. Some dipshit still wanted to talk to him. Why would he want to talk? What did that even mean? What was going on?

Before he could fall asleep again, the ethereal, triumphant FIFA anthem blared at him through the couch cushions.

 _Okay fine fucking fine whatever fine._ Poe reached back over his shoulder and slapped the coffee table until he found his phone. Unlocked it and—

 **4:46pm Jess:** Checking in. Hope you’re doing okay.

 **4:47pm Poe:** alive

Poe bashed out his customary response, then locked his phone again and threw it back onto the table. The notification light blinked at him again.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

_Shit fuck goddamn—_

Poe yanked his phone off the table, unlocked it, and finally opened the other message.

 **1:31pm Finn:** I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well today. I hope you feel better soon. Let me know if there’s any way I can help!

Poe stared at his phone. Ran his thumb over the words, as though they’d burn straight up through the whorls of his thumbprint. Brought the phone close to his face and read the text again, again, a sixth time, a fifteenth.

No demands. No panic. No freak-out. No well-meant but patronizing advice. It was simple enough and straightforward enough to reach through the dissociative paranoia that’s been choking him all day. And it was just—calm. Supportive. Compassionate.

_Loving._

In the quiet of his apartment, Poe could hear the low murmur of his upstairs neighbor’s TV, the muttered yowl of a cat down in the alleyway, the irregular rumble of traffic in the street below. The afternoon light slanted crookedly through the blinds. The couch was foreign and home at the same time, a place that wasn't hiding in his bed but was also not facing the world. He should throw his phone back onto the coffee table and huddle up again without it, at least until Kes texted him.

Poe closed his eyes and curled in on himself, hugging the phone to his chest. The lingering heat of its metal casing spread through his fingers like a human hand.

 

 

 

_October 15th, 2015_

**7:12am Poe:** Hey. I’m really sorry I bailed on you. And that I didn’t explain. Thank you so much for your text. It meant the world to me. If you’re still interested, I’d love to meet up sometime. If not, I completely understand. I’m so sorry.

Poe was supposed to be getting ready for work, an extra-long day to make up for some of the work he missed yesterday. He was supposed to be rummaging around in his drawers to find socks, ideally ones that matched and had no holes, but at least ones that didn’t smell like a possum had died in his bureau. He was supposed to be texting Jess to tell her that he was back to work, but he’d be working from home today, was there anything important that he missed yesterday?

He was not supposed to be sitting on his bed, turning his phone over and over in his hands, heart pounding in his ears, waiting for a reply that might never come. Finn was in college. He wouldn't be getting up until noon at the earliest—

Chime.

 **7:16am Finn:** So glad to hear you’re feeling better! You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry that it happened. And I’d love to meet up again. When are you free?

Poe squinted at the screen. Maybe it was a chatbot? Artificial intelligence was making great leaps and bounds these days. But no, he could hear each word in Finn’s soft accent. See the accompanying smile, glowing in the sunshine, spreading across his face.

 **7:17am Poe:** Why are you so nice? I don’t understand you.

 **7:19am Poe:** Thank you. So much. Do you want to come over tonight, maybe? I’m not sure how much I’ll be up for. I’m really sorry.

 **7:18am Finn:** It’s ok! I mean it. And yeah, I would love to come hang out. Netflix and chill, maybe? :D

 **7:19am Poe:** That sounds perfect!

 **7:20am Poe:** I should be able to finish my work by like 7 or 8pm. Want to come by then? I’ll text you my address.

 **7:20am Finn:** [thumbs-up emoji]

 **7:20am Poe:** [smiley face]

When Poe finally settled in front of his laptop and started tackling the work he missed yesterday, he was still smiling.

 

 

 

 **12:42pm Jess:** Netflix and chill, huh? Niiiiiice, Dameron. I’m so proud of you.

 **12:43pm Poe:** For…watching a movie?

 **12:43pm Jess:** Dameron.

Seriously.

You’re kidding me, right?

Please dear lord tell me you know what that means.

 

Poe shoved aside the crumpled remains of his lunch, opened his laptop, and checked Urban Dictionary.

_Shit._

 

 

 

“Hey!” Poe opened the door wider and beckoned Finn inside.

“Hey! How are you?” Finn smiled at him, warm and wonderful and blinding as always.

Poe lost his breath for a moment. “I’m good, buddy,” he said at last, dazed. “I’m good. Here, come on in.”

Finn chucked off his shoes beside the door. “What’ve you been up to all day?”

Poe shrugged. “Work. Just finished…” He checked his watch. “About eight minutes ago.”

Finn laughed. “Work well under deadline, huh?”

“Yeah. Well. Lots to catch up on from, uh. Yesterday. I guess. But, uh. How ‘bout you?”

Finn shrugged. “Tried to work on a paper. Couldn’t really concentrate, so…I don’t know. It’s done, I guess?”

“But you’re planning to work on it for another three hours tomorrow before you actually hand it in, just to be sure that it’s as good as it possibly can be.”

Finn opened his mouth, ready to protest—then deflated. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I probably will.”

Poe chucked him on the shoulder. “Figured as much. But I do hope you take a break once in awhile.”

Finn spreads his hands. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Good man,” Poe laughed. “Happy to provide an excuse. Come on in, sit.”

Finn followed Poe into the living room. “So—what did you want to watch?”

“Right!” Poe bounced his hands off the back of the couch, grinning as wide as he could. “So! I’m, uh. A little old? I guess? And, uh. Out of the loop. Apparently ‘Netflix and chill’ usually means, uh—”

Finn grabbed for Poe’s hands, laughing. “It’s ok!” He bit his lip. “I really did mean hang out and watch a movie. That’s just, I don’t know. The idiom everyone uses. Rey and I have ‘Netflix and chill’ nights every so often. But seriously. Actually watching the movie would be great. Or whatever you want to do. I just wanted to—”

“Check in on me?” Poe asked, with a bitter smirk.

Finn winced. “Um. Yes? Is there a way to say that so it sounds more caring than patronizing?”

“Nope.”

“Look.” Finn’s hands tightened on Poe’s. “I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. I just—”

“Don’t think I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Finn replied, low and precise. “And I also know what it’s like to have days when you’re not okay.” His eyes held Poe’s. “They suck. They really fucking suck. So yes, I was worried.”

Poe took a slow breath and let it out. “Thank you,” he said, very quiet. He looked down at his feet, jaw tight. “This will happen again,” he said. “Or a flashback, or—” He waved a hand, as though that could possibly encompass _all of this shit I wade through on a daily basis,_ and finally met Finn’s eyes again. “I told you. I’m not an easy person to be with. I'm—I'm—I'm sorry.”

Finn just looked at him, eyes cool and steady. “Neither am I, Dameron. You want to call this off?”

A sharp crease ran up Poe’s brow. “No,” he said. “But I’d understand if you wanted to.”

Finn shrugged. “Well. That’s fair. I don’t, though. I think we can figure this out. So if you’re still in, then so am I.”

“We should—talk,” Poe rasped. “About what to do. When shit like this happens. We both have—operating instructions, I guess. What we—need. What helps. And all that. But. Maybe—not—tonight?” He couldn't handle thinking about symptoms and triggers right now, not when he was finally close to an even keel again.

“That’s a good idea.” Finn’s thumb rubbed across the back of Poe’s hand. “I’d love to.”

“Okay. Um. That’s good. That’s great.” Poe forcibly relaxed his shoulders down from his ears and cleared his throat. “So. Uh. Movie?”

Finn nodded solemnly. “Movie.”

“What do you want to watch?”

Finn bit his lip. “Well. I—guess this should be a line in my operating instructions? I don’t like violent movies.”

“Like—any kind of violence? Pushing, shoving—”

“I mean, funny slapstick is okay, but guns, or war, or actual beatings—it’s not like I’m going to flip out, I just—” Finn’s breath huffed out.

“I know, buddy.” Poe said quietly. “I get it. And I don’t like violent movies either.” He considered for a moment. “Ever seen Fantasia?”

“No, it’s been on my list for a while. I’d love to see it.”

“Excellent! That was one of my favorite movies, growing up. So beautiful. And the sequel’s even better—in fact, let’s start with that.” Poe cued up the movie, then glanced back at Finn to ask if he wanted any popcorn—  

His eyes snagged on the lean rise of Finn’s shoulders, the elegant dip of his collarbone. “Movie,” he said at last, and blinked. “We were going to watch a movie.”

“Movie,” Finn agreed, with a crooked smirk. “See? We’re already off to a great start.” He grinned at Poe and slung an arm around Poe’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Poe agreed, with absolutely no recollection of what he was agreeing to. Finn’s arm fit around his shoulders like a hug from Abuela, warm and solid and perfect and _oh god I am such a goner, aren’t I?_

 

 

 

Poe’s laughter reverberated across Finn’s ribcage. His eyes caught on the crazy sweep of Poe’s curls, falling across his forehead. Poe flicked his head to shake them out of his eyes. Somewhere on the screen, a flock of flamingoes wrecked havoc with a simple yo-yo. Their long-empty bowls of popcorn nested haphazardly on the coffee table, resting inside each other with a casual familiarity they hadn’t quite managed yet.

 _Yet,_ Finn thought. There had always been things he hadn’t done yet, and he’d done them anyway. It’s why he was here.

So he reached out between them, palm up, and brushed the back of Poe’s hand in a silent invitation. Poe’s eyes flicked to his, startled—then crinkled in delight. He took the proffered hand and scooted closer to Finn on the couch.

He watched the movie for another moment, enjoying the warm press of Poe’s fingers against his. The yo-yoing flamingo won the day, wrapping up his haters in a triumphant tangle. Poe laughed again, bright and clear. Finn turned to him—and got caught in the laughworn crinkle of his eyes and the inelegant snub of his nose and the upturned quirk of his lips and _oh god_ he was such a goner, wasn’t he?

“Can I kiss you?” Finn asked, because what else could he possibly say?

 

 

 

Poe blinked. It was so completely different from the typical approach—lean down to lusted-after property and consume—that for a moment, he didn’t even know how to respond.  And okay, fine, he’d only ever gotten the _surprise attack!_ kiss twice before, but he’d also only ever gone out with two guys before, so that still counted for something. Finn was just sitting there, next to him, holding his hand, looking him in the eye. Waiting, like a _no_ would be a perfectly reasonable response. “Yeah,” Poe rasped at last. “Please.”

Finn’s smile blossomed outward petal by petal, like a peony beneath the sun. Their faces were so close, he only needed to lean forward a few inches to meet Poe’s lips.

Poe’s breath huffed out—the need, the _need,_ it was overwhelming. Every cell in his body reached towards Finn. His lips parted in invitation; Finn’s tongue slipped inside. Finn’s hand splayed over the small of Poe’s back, just above the waistband of his jeans. His other hand rose to cup Poe’s cheek, callused and warm. Poe’s hands shifted over Finn’s back, needing to touch him everywhere, everywhere, _everywhere._

When Poe shifted upwards, trying to find a better angle, his shirt rode up beneath Finn’s hand, leaving Finn’s hand in contact with the bare skin of Poe’s back for a split-second. Poe flinched back. He let go of Finn, all at once, and yanked his shirt back down. Finn’s hand was gone now, probably had been gone the moment Poe reacted. Poe ducked his head, eyes closed, breathing hard. _FUCK._

“I’m sorry.” Finn sounded stricken. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Finn’s thumb rubbed anxiously on the couch, scraping over the soft fabric. Poe covered Finn’s hand with his. “It’s okay,” he rasped, and fell silent, cursing himself up a mountain and down again.

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered again. “I never meant to—”

“I know,” Poe said, harder than he meant to. “It was an accident. My fault. Not yours. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though,” Finn said. He hunched down, head cocked, as though trying to see Poe’s expression.

Poe rubbed a hand over his forehead, suddenly exhausted. “I’ll be—” _Fine,_ he should say, he’ll be fine, everything was always fine. But it wasn’t, was it? Here he was, with more baggage than a 747’s cargo hold, trying to make out with a kid, a wonderful kid— “Look,” he croaked instead. “Thank you for coming to check on me. For—caring. It’s really nice of you. I think. You should probably—” _Leave,_ he should say, _you should leave, we tried, okay, it’s over, we’re done._

“Do you want me to go?” Finn was already sliding off the couch, hugging his elbows to his chest, brow snapping shut with concern. “I’m so sorry. This was probably too much for tonight. I shouldn’t have—I’ll go. I’m sorry.” He hesitated. “If you want to, just—text me? Whenever you want to meet up again.”

“No, I—” _didn’t mean you should go and come back, I meant you should go and stay away, forever, I can’t do this, I—_ “I can do this,” Poe said, and blinked. _The fuck._ He wasn't supposed to say that. What the fuck was going on. His head was a _mess,_ a fucking mess, even worse right now than usual. But all he could think was _stay stay stay stay stay_ and there was no way he could make the words _we’re done_ leave his mouth. His tongue went on strike, refusing to cooperate until he started making good decisions again.  

Finn crouched in front of the couch, eyes intent on Poe’s.

“I can do this,” Poe said again. “I can do this.”

Finn smiled—small, tentative, heartbreakingly sweet.

“I can do this,” Poe said. His voice cracked.

Finn leaned forward until their foreheads met, Poe half-hunched over himself, Finn stretching upward as though reaching for the light. “Of course you can,” Finn said, low and certain, and that’s when Poe knew.

Because Finn was not a kid. He made that clear, the first evening. He had his own shit to deal with, several trash bags’ worth. He knew. He _got_ it.

Finn’s hands twitched, as though about to reach for Poe. Poe reached for him instead—grabbed Finn’s arms and held on tight. Pulled him back onto the couch. Folded Finn into his arms as tightly as he could. Buried his head in the crook of Finn’s neck. Breathed.

 _I can do this,_ Poe thought. _I can do this. No fucking clue how. But I will._

Finn stroked the back of his head. His other hand hovered over Poe’s shoulder, clearly hesitant to touch him anywhere that may be a problem.

 _Talk. Talk to him, you fucker._ Poe pulled back slowly, reluctantly, and took Finn’s hands in his. “I have scars,” Poe said, and why the fuck was it so much easier to say than he thought it would be?

“That’s okay,” Finn murmured, eyes gentle as always. “So do I. I don’t care if you have—”

“I care,” Poe interrupted harshly. “So. That’s a line in my operating instructions. Don’t—don’t touch my skin.” He looked down at the clench of his hands on Finn’s arms, Finn’s hands on his, and snorted. “Skin that’s covered by a t-shirt and shorts, I guess? Everything else is—is fine. And through clothes. Is also fine.” His breath was coming faster—he closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Maybe he couldn't do this. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should—

“Okay,” Finn said, voice still soft. “I can do that.”

Poe bit back a hundred bitter responses. Self-pity. Nope. Shut that the fuck down. “Look,” he said. “You’re—if you want to—” _leave,_ he needed to say, _you can leave now if this isn't going to work for you, who the fuck knows when I’ll be ready to be touched, maybe never—_

“Want to what?” Finn asked with a crooked smile. “Want to call it off, because you don’t want to get naked tonight? Are you serious? Is this when I’m supposed to say fuck it all and walk out dramatically into the night? Look, Dameron, I’d be offended if I didn’t know you were—”

“Not in my right mind?” Poe interrupted, dangerously cold.

“You’re allowed to flip out,” Finn said, unfazed. “It happens. And now I know some of your operating instructions. Which will help in the future.”

“And if I’m never okay with being touched?”

“I think you will be, someday.”

“Why? You’re still not okay with violent movies.”

Finn lost his smile. “You're right. I’m not. And I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy them, even if I figure out how to watch them without—”

“Flipping out,” Poe supplied.

“Yeah. But that’s how it is. It’s okay. And if you’re never okay with me touching you—” Finn’s voice cracked. _It wouldn’t be okay,_ he thought, _it’s not okay, not really, but nothing about this is okay, especially the look on your face right now._ “Then we’ll deal with that,” he said instead, very quiet. “We’ll figure it out. Ok?”

Poe’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “This isn’t fair to you,” he said.

“Why? Because we’re not banging right now?”

“Or ever. And I’m sure that wasn’t part of your plan—”

“My _plan?”_ Finn interrupted, fighting to keep his voice level. “Dameron. Are you trying to hurt me until I leave? Because—” He cleared his throat roughly. “I will, if you want me to. I—”

Poe’s hands tightened on Finn’s arms. “No,” he rasped. _“Stay._ Please stay. I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you’re doing this just—to get into my pants, or something. I just meant—it’s not fair to you. I don’t want to hold you back from—from living your life, from—”

“From banging? Is that what life is?”

“It’s part of life,” Poe insisted.

“But it’s not all of life.” Finn rubbed his thumb over the back of Poe’s hand. “It’s—look. My best friend is ace, ok? I’m not. We’re both going to have wonderful lives. She’s been dating this girl for a few years now, who’s also ace, and they have a fantastic time together. You think her life is less than mine? That she has less fun, or meaning, or whatever?”

“Of course not,” Poe bit out. “But neither of them want sex. That’s the point. You do, right? And I—I think I do too. But it might take me a really, _really_ long time to be okay with being naked. It’s been four years and I’m still not—you can’t tell me you want to just—just _wait_ for me, wait for years maybe—”

“It’s not _waiting,_ Poe. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s hanging out with you, and having dinner, and going on dates, and talking for hours with you, and watching movies, and walking in the park, and exploring the city, and—and whatever the hell else you want to do, ok? It’s not waiting. It’s not second-best. It’s _living,_ and being with you, and getting to know you better. Ok?”

“But—but I—” Poe blinked. “But…”

Finn bit his lip and waited for Poe to gather his thoughts.

“Oh,” Poe said at last. “I—” He shook his head. “You’re really okay with that?”

“Look,” Finn said, voice soft. “You’re right. I would love to have sex with you. I would love to learn what turns you on. I would love to make love to you until you’re a puddle in my arms.”

Poe’s breath hitched at that. He bit back a silly grin.

Finn smiled, and adjusted his grip to keep Poe from falling off the couch. “But mostly—” He stopped, buried his nose in Poe’s hair, and breathed in the now-familiar tang of rosemary. “Mostly,” he whispered. “I just want to be near you. I want you to be safe, and happy. Whatever I can do to make that happen—tell me, ok? I’m happy to do it. If that means leaving, I’ll leave. If that means no touching your skin—” he shrugged— “then I’m not going to touch your skin.”

Poe cupped Finn’s cheek in his palm. “Buddy,” he said, then stopped, and dropped his head. _“Thank you,”_ he rasped. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I—I want that for you, too. Ok? Whatever you need. Anytime. Just ask.”

“Okay,” Finn murmured, with the sweetest of smiles. He kissed Poe’s forehead, and for a moment Poe wondered if it could actually be that easy. Two bodies. Two heads. Two hearts. Two instruction manuals. Maybe this could actually work.

Poe nuzzled into Finn’s chest and closed his eyes. “We can do this,” he said.

“Of course we can,” Finn said, as though for some bizarre reason he was completely sure of it, which was obviously ridiculous, but—but—but—maybe they really could?

Poe picked his head up again and looked at Finn. Traced the line of his cheek with one finger, down to the soft skin beneath his jaw. “Can we—can we just—go back to how we were? I’d like to—to just watch another movie. With you. Is that all right?”

“That sounds _wonderful,”_ Finn said, as though he actually meant it.

 _No,_ Poe realized, as Finn slid up to sit on the couch again. _He does actually mean it._

What a wonder.

Poe leaned against Finn’s shoulder and started flipping through his Netflix again.

“You ever seen _Cupcakes?”_ Finn asked at last.

Poe shook his head.

“Ohhh, man.” Finn grinned. “It’s one of my all-time favorites. One of my friends loved it, freshman year, so he made us all watch it. It’s like a parody of Eurovision, basically? But half of them are gay and they’re all trying to cheer up their friend. It’s just—happy. The kind of movie that…”

“Yeah,” Poe said, very soft.

“Yeah.” Finn smiled at Poe. Poe started the movie, tossed the remote on the table, and leaned back against the couch. As the opening studio credits rolled, he snuck a glance at Finn, who was uncharacteristically solemn. His thumb rubbed over the first knuckle of his finger.

Poe tentatively reached out and took Finn’s hand in his.

Finn smiled at him.

And then the first song started, featuring a gloriously sequined drag queen.

_Love! Love will keep us together._

Poe cracked up, startled and delighted, and curled up into Finn’s side. Finn tucked him in close and leaned his head on Poe’s. The movie played on, hilarious and warmhearted and loving, just like—well, just like the man whose arms were wrapped around him.

 

 

 

“I owe you a real date,” Poe murmured as the credits rolled up the screen.

“What do you call this?”

“Netflix and chill,” Poe said with a wicked grin.

“Damn right it is!” Finn laughed. “Oh, I am so chill right now.” He looked at Poe with a smug glint in his eye. “This was a good idea, yeah?”

“A wonderful idea.” Poe pressed a kiss to Finn’s collarbone. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Definitely,” Finn nodded. “Anytime.” He cupped Poe’s face to his and kissed him with the kind of fervor that could so easily unwrap itself into something more.

“But,” Poe managed, when they finally break apart for air. “But.” He blinked a few times. “I was saying something. Wasn’t I?”

“Probably,” Finn allowed. He tugged Poe even closer. “You’re usually saying something.”

“And it’s usually brilliant and erudite and scintillating and wise.”

“Always,” Finn nodded. “Did you practice those words, or are you just a walking thesaurus?”

“Thesaurus. I think. Um. Anyway.” Poe thought for a moment. Finn pressed a finger to the furrow between Poe's brows. “Dates!” Poe jerked upright and flailed for a moment, nearly falling off the couch. Finn caught him and settled him onto his lap with a contented grin. “Have you ever been to the orchestra? The one at the Center.”

“If I say I haven’t, will you suggest that we go there?”

“No.” Poe shook his head solemnly. “I was just curious.”

“That’s too bad,” Finn sighed. “Because I really enjoyed it. And I’ve only been twice, so…”

“So,” Poe agreed. “Next Saturday?”

“Sounds good!” Finn smiled at him. “Call me when you’re buying your ticket, so we can get seats next to each other.”

“What? No, man. My treat.”

“I can pay for my own ticket,” Finn said, smile fading.

“I know you can, but you’re a student. And I’m an old man who’s been working for years with no dependents and a bonus from the government every month because they feel sorry for me. I’d like to take you out.”

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy—”

“Good. I don’t want to be one. I just want to take you to the orchestra without you having to worry about paying your rent. It’s just a gift. People do this. It’s okay.”

Finn stared at the rug, jaw tight. “It’s not okay with me,” he said.

Poe opened his mouth to object—then closed it. The silence of the apartment was deafening. He could feel Finn’s ribs expand, contract between his arms with each breath.

“Okay,” Poe said at last. Finn looked at him. Poe held his gaze. “I’ll call you when I’m buying my ticket.”

Finn nodded. “Thank you.”

Poe leaned his forehead against Finn’s. “I’m sorry. I’m going to say stupid shit, ok? Please call me out on it.”

“It’s okay.” Finn leaned back and cupped Poe’s cheek. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Of course.” Poe kissed Finn’s wrist. “Well, okay, apparently not _of course,_ but, um. I do try to get there in the end.”

Finn grinned at him at last, that crooked smirk that always sent a rush of heat down Poe’s spine. “That’s what counts,” he said, and kissed Poe.


	3. your eyes on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ableist language during an argument (skip the Kes section to avoid it), references to scars.

Poe ran a hand back through his hair for the tenth “last” time and cursed himself, his permanently tangled curls, and his obsessive need to arrange them to perfection. Well. They were good enough, or at least as good as they were ever going to get, unless he—the buzzer rang. _Shit shit shit._ Poe squared his shoulders, straightened his tie, and met his own eyes in the mirror.

_You can do this, Dameron._

When he swung the door open, Finn was waiting—body framed in crisp black, back erect, chest sliced with a deep purple tie, face lit with his glorious smile. Even the green-tinted fluorescent lights of the hallway couldn't dim the warmth of Finn’s light or obscure the sleek lines of his body.

Poe blinked. Far too many dazed seconds later, he cleared his throat and extended a hand. “Mr. Akindele! Good evening, sir.”

Finn shook his hand with cool formality, lips trembling with the effort to hold back laughter. “Good evening, Mr. Dameron.” He put on a British accent to match Poe’s, layered over his own slight accent. “You look charming tonight,” he added. “Simply charming.” Finn bowed over Poe’s hand and kissed it. “May I presume that was the point of this excursion?”

Poe cackled. “Yes, yes it was, indeed it was.” He pulled Finn closer by their joined hands and kissed his cheek, just because he could. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Finn inclined his head with a regal nod and crooked his elbow towards Poe. Poe took it with an easy grin. They set off down the hallway of Poe’s apartment building, dress shoes clattering neatly on the stairs, and stepped out into the night. Somewhere along the line, they ended up hand in hand, instead of joined at the elbow.

And here Poe was, walking beneath the lamplight of the quiet city streets, past neighbors and friends and strangers, hand in hand with the man he—liked. Liked a lot. It felt crazy, dangerous, revolutionary, absurd—and then Finn jostled his side and pointed out a pair of dolls in the window of an antique shop that had been fitted with odd Star Trek hats, and Poe laughed in delight, and it just felt right.

Like this was where he belonged, in the whirling universe: hand in hand with Finn, walking through the night, unable to stop smiling.

 

 

 

Halfway through the concert, Poe glanced over at Finn. His eyes are closed—well, it’s been a long day, Poe supposed, and he probably stayed up late working on—wait. No. He’s not asleep. Finn leaned forward in his seat, eyes still closed, brow creased in concentration. His fingers stretched out, then swept up, following the ebb and sway of the music.

Poe forgot about the concert entirely. It was all he could do to not lean forward and kiss Finn within an inch of his life, undo the glimmering silk tie and unwrap the sleek jacket and unbutton the crisp shirt and unclasp his belt and—

Poe yanked his eyes back to the stage, gripped the armrest tightly enough to whiten his knuckles, and desperately tried to think of anything other than the man next to him before his pants could get too tight.

“You ok?” The voice slipped neatly beneath the music, breath-quiet.

Poe jumped in his seat and turned back to Finn, one hand on his chest as though it could slow his racing heart. “Yeah,” he murmured, equally quiet. “Yeah. I’m fine. Um. Are you enjoying it?”

Finn smiled back, sweeter than honey. “Yeah.” He folded Poe’s hand in his and leaned against him, warm and solid and full of life. Poe stared down at the bright lights of the stage, unable to focus on the musicians or the sweep of the conductor’s tails.

This was what life was supposed to be like, wasn’t it? Poe took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his head on the smooth slant of Finn’s shoulder. The music swooped around him, chords and wingovers and harmonies and ailerons and Finn’s hand enveloping his and the hushed breath of the audience and the air full of sound and _this was what he survived for,_ this, here, now, hand in hand with Finn.

 

 

 

Poe leaned back against the kitchen counter and scuffed a toe along the floor. “So, um,” he said at last. “So I maybe should have told you…I met this guy? Um. A few weeks ago. And we’ve been dating for a little bit. And I’m just—I’m really happy, fuck, he’s—he’s _amazing.”_

Kes straightened up from the oven and stared at Poe. “You’re— _dating,_ mijo? I thought you deleted those apps.”

“I did, I did, I wasn’t looking for anyone, I just—he was at that conference last month, the one at the college, and he came up afterwards and talked to me, and we got lunch, and dinner, and kept talking, and then he kinda made a move, I guess? And, um. I, um. I kissed him.” Poe buried his face in his hands. “God, I sound like a fifteen-year-old, don’t I?”

“Mijo. You didn’t sound like this at fifteen. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve _ever_ heard you sound like this. I think you’re allowed to enjoy yourself, now. I’m so glad you met someone.”

“Yeah?” Poe flushed. “Well. I’m just—I never thought—I never really thought I’d meet someone I really wanted to date. Not like this.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Hey.”

“What?” Kes spread his hands. “You haven’t mentioned anyone to me in years. I figured either you were getting something on the down-low—that’s what the kids call it, right?—or you’d given up on the whole thing.”

“Well.” Poe looked down at his feet. “I did give up. I wasn’t going to do anything, no fucking way. If he hadn’t made a move, I’d still be on my own. But he did. He really did. He—oh, god. He’s a miracle.”

“Mmm?” Kes smiled at Poe. “Tell me about him.”

“Oh, god, he’s—he’s beautiful, and he’s smart, and he’s funny, and he’s so fucking kind, the sweetest man I’ve ever met, and he _likes_ me, and he kisses like—shit, nope, okay, never mind. Um. Uh. Anyway. Where was I?”

Kes wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Mijo. Oh, mijo. Never change.”

 _“Anyway._ We’re going on another date tomorrow and I’m so fucking excited.”

“That’s wonderful, mijo. I’m so glad.” Kes patted Poe’s arm and went back to baste the chicken and return it to the oven. “So why was he at the conference? Was he presenting? Does he work at the college?”

“He’s a student there, studying—”

“A student? Isn’t that a little young for you?”

“Sort of, yeah. But—well, first of all, he’s twenty-three. Nine years isn’t a huge difference. But more importantly, he’s…more mature than anyone I know, honestly. He, um. He was, um. A child soldier? And he escaped, and made it to a refugee camp, and lived there for years, all on his own. If anything, _I_ feel like the kid when I’m around him.”

“That kind of life,” Kes said carefully. “That can be…traumatic, no?”

“Well—yeah, of course.”

“Have you talked about it with him?”

“I—what do you mean? I mean, we’ve talked about his life a bit, yeah. And, um. The fact that we both have, um. PTSD. He—” Poe stopped short. “Papá. What.”

“I just…” Kes sighed.

“What?”

“You—” Kes stopped. “Look. Okay. This is going to sound really bad, ok?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t say it.”

Kes considered this for a moment. “You’re right, I definitely shouldn’t.”

“Okay then, that’s great. Glad we got that figured out.”

“And I'm going to say it anyway.”

Poe stared at Kes. “What.”

“I just—” Kes rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure it’s safe. That both of you are—”

“What,” Poe growled.

“That both of you have PTSD. I mean, what if you both get triggered, or need help at the same time?”

Poe stared at Kes. “Then we’ll deal with it,” he said at last. “What are you getting at?”

“I just mean—look, it’s fine to have one person in a relationship who needs to be taken care of. But if you both need care, and neither of you can provide that, then—”

“So you’re saying,” Poe started, low and dangerous, “that we can’t be together. Because we’re both damaged goods.”

Kes pointed at Poe. “Your words, not mine.”

“Because you’re trying to beat around the goddamned bush,” Poe hissed. “If you’d said what you meant, you’d have realized how goddamn fucked up it is. We can’t be together, because we’re both—” He lost his breath. “Both. Broken? What. The. Fuck.”

“You’re not _broken._ You just—”

“Have special needs?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Poe—”

“You’re damn fucking right there isn’t! Until you used it to say we can’t fucking _be_ together, what kind of fucked-up—”

“I’m sorry, Poe. I—”

“No! You’re not. You meant it.”

“It’s not that you can’t be together, Poe. It’s just that I—I worry about you.”

“I’m thirty-fucking-two, don’t you think I can handle my own—”

“I know you can handle _yourself._ I’m worried about what might happen when you add another person to your life, a person who also needs care, at times when you may not be able to—”

“A person who’s also ‘broken,’” Poe hissed. He clawed at his hair, more furious than Kes had ever seen him. “Look, Finn said to me. The very first night. When I was—I was saying your lines, I guess. Saying I was broken. Too fucked up to try to handle a relationship now. He said that people don’t break. They get hurt. And then they find a way to heal, or to live with that hurt. That’s what I’m doing!” His voice cracked. “That’s what _we’re_ doing. This is me living with the hurt.”

“I know that you are, Poe,” Kes said gently. “I’m proud of how you’ve—”

“No, you’re fucking _not._ Not now. I—I don’t—you’ve always been there for me. Every step of the way, everything that’s ever happened. And now—this is how you see me? Fucked-up, broken—”

“You don’t know,” Kes rasped, holding Poe’s eyes, “what it means. To mourn a child. Poe, I worry about you every day, every single goddamn day, and I will continue to worry about you for the rest of my life.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to change my life to—”

“I don’t want you to change your life to suit me, Poe. I just want you to _listen.”_

“I did listen. You said I’m broken. What’s next, I’m obsolete, too? And keep in mind, everything you say here applies to Finn. You’re telling me he’s—”

“Will you sit down and listen to me!” Kes shouted.

Poe slammed a chair out from the table, dropped into it, and folded his arms across his chest. “Listening,” he growled, and for a moment Kes could see the steel girders that allowed him to survive a year in hell.

Kes slid another chair out and sat down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’d better be fucking sorry.”

“I didn’t mean you’re broken,” Kes said softly. “I meant that if, at some point, you’re both triggered, or both having bad days, there will be no one around to help you.”

“Papá. There’s no one around to help me _now._ Sometimes, sure, but none of you are with me every day, every moment. _I’m_ the one who lives with this, all right? _I’m_ the one who deals with this shit. Has adding Finn to my life made things more stressful? Yes. Fine. We’ll probably have some bad days. But it’s also made life easier, more—more happy, more beautiful, more worth it.”

Kes leaned back in his chair and looked at Poe for a moment. “Well,” he said finally. “I’m glad. I can see how having a partner who understands could make your life easier, sometimes. Could help your recovery, maybe.”

“I hope so.” Poe clenched his hands in his lap, trying to keep his temper in check. “But Finn isn’t a tool for my recovery. He’s a _person._ And if I never get better—” His damn fucking traitorous voice cracked. “If I never get better,” he rasped. “Than I am now. I will still be okay. I’m a human too, goddammit.”

Kes looked at Poe for a long time, mouth pulling down into tense lines.

Poe held his father’s gaze. For once he’d said all he needed to say, and he meant it. He’d waited far too fucking long for a relationship like this to give it up now for fear of something that might happen.

“Your mother would be so proud of you,” Kes murmured at last.

Poe blinked at Kes, utterly nonplussed, then pressed his knuckles to his lips.

Kes opened his arms to Poe. Poe met him halfway, ribs awkwardly pressed up against the corner of the table, and buried his face in Kes’ shoulder.

“And I am, too,” Kes whispered, voice muffled in Poe’s curls.

 

 

 

Dancing…wasn’t a first date thing. Not for Poe, at least. Not even a third date thing. Twentieth, maybe? It had taken him more than a month this time, at least. And let’s be real: he’d never lasted more than one bad date with anyone else before, and even that not since…oof. More years than he really wanted to count up.

Dancing was the distant precursor to meet the parents, the litmus test, the bar to pass. If he felt comfortable dancing around someone, he could be comfortable doing anything with them.

Or at least that was what Poe told himself. He wasn't a horrible dancer, really. At least, not once he got in the mood for it. But it took a long time to get there, and alcohol (he learned the hard way) didn't really help, beyond the first drink or so.

So here he was in a bar with his date, the most beautiful man he’d seen in ten—fifteen?—years, with a smile that must have come down from the sky. He was trying not to trip over his tongue, but despite his general reputation of smoothness, he was really…not. Case in point, he thought, running a hand over the tiny patch of stubble underneath his chin that he apparently missed, even after painstakingly shaving off every inch of his jaw. It was a dealbreaker for some people, kisses with rugburn, so he took care to make himself presentable before a date.

But really, though. Smooth with words…yes, okay, sometimes. When angry, when afraid. For reasons he’d never quite understood. When nervous around a guy he really— _really really really,_ let’s be honest here—liked?

Nope. That was an oh hell nope, to be precise. So when his date’s eyes swung back to the dance floor again, caught by the shifting lights and pounding bass and crush of bodies, Poe said, “You want to, um—”

Finn looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Dance?” Poe offered.

Finn grinned.

Poe lost his train of thought. “What?” he said.

Finn laughed outright and held out a hand. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do it.”

Poe took Finn’s hand and let Finn pull him out from the slippery bench seat. He shimmied—or something like that? It felt like it should be called a shimmy, although it was entirely possible that ‘waggle’ would be a more accurate description—out onto the dance floor. Raised his hands above his head, closed his eyes, and tried to let the music sink into his bones.

The song changed to a pop anthem, fast and rhythmic. It ground into Poe’s nerves, shook his bones from his core. He danced, he danced, he danced. Loosened his limbs, let the beat take over his heart.

When he opened his eyes again, Finn was still standing on the edge of the dance floor, staring at him. “Come on, buddy!” Poe smirked. He reached out a hand, curled his fingers up in an enticing wave (at least, he hoped it was enticing).

Poe was rewarded with a smile that slipped sideways onto Finn’s cheeks as he took the proffered hand and let himself be dragged onto the dance floor. “Dance, huh?” Finn asked. Shouted, really, to be heard over the din.

“‘Fuck yeah,’ you said!” Poe shouted back. “No?” He let his hips rock forward and back, swaying, trying to be sultry. _Don’t think about it. Just—just do it._ “You said you like to dance, didn’t you?”

Finn’s eyes widened slightly, watching Poe. “I do,” he said, as the song wound down.

“Then dance, motherfucker!” Poe laughed. He grinned as a sudden spark lit in Finn’s eyes. The next song came on—something about summertime, sex and cherries, running through the grass.

“Okay!” Finn curled his other hand around Poe’s shoulders. Swayed against Poe, rolled his shoulders, tilted his ass, dipped beneath the beat—

Sometime later, Poe heard Finn laughing at him, bright and clear and full of glee. “You still there, Poe?” he shouted.

Poe blinked. “I,” he said. Blinked again. “I.”

Finn ground up closer, shoulders and hands and _smile,_ that fucking _smile._ Every time he smiled, a little more blood left Poe’s brain for the sunnier climes of his dick. Finn wrapped his hands around Poe’s waist. His fingers were a brand on Poe’s back, etching their fingerprints above his belt.

Poe shook his head, trying to clear it. “Where did you learn to dance like that?” he shouted.

Something crossed Finn’s face too fast for Poe to see it. “Life,” he said, and shrugged. “Why not dance?”

“You’re a dance floor god!” Poe inclined his head, in the presence of a true deity. “Teach me?”

“ _I_ am?” Finn’s brows rose to his hairline. “Poe. Have you ever seen yourself dance?”

“Um. No?” Drink. Where was his drink? Poe needed another drink, right now.

“Well. Maybe I’ll make a video, sometime. Or take you to a hall with mirrors. Because fuck, man—” Finn rocked his hips against Poe’s.

And…apparently Poe wasn't the only one with a bloodflow situation. That was a relief.

“ _Fuck,”_ Finn repeated. ”You dance like you were born to. Like you live here, every night.”

Finn’s eyes were hot on Poe’s. It was hard to read his face, flashing purple and blue in the lights of the club.

“I don’t,” Poe said, and it was the fucking truth. “I go out once a year, maybe. And I don’t dance like this.” _Without your eyes on me._ “I don’t—” He shook his head, full of strobes and bass and clinking glasses.

Finn dipped Poe into a kiss, telegraphing his movements just enough to give Poe a moment to step back, to resist.

Poe didn't.

He closed his eyes instead and arched up into the kiss. Felt his heart pound. Finn’s breath stuttered, warm on his face. Lips soft and strong, just like his hands. The other bodies on the dance floor pressed close around them, bashed into them, stepped on their toes, cursed at the way they blocked the flow of movement. Poe lost track of time, pressed up into Finn’s arms, and let himself feel safe. Just for a moment.

This glorious, brilliant, wonderful man. Twenty-three years old and so much wiser, braver, bolder than Poe. Poe was just—he was just in awe, that was all. In total, jawdropped, awe.  

“Let’s get out of here,” Poe shouted, when he pulled back at last to pull some air back into his lungs.

Finn stared down at him. As dazed as Poe was? Probably not. But damn close, that was for sure. He nodded, eventually, then nodded again. Twined his fingers in the curls at the back of Poe’s neck, pulled on one to stretch it out, and let it pop back into place.

Poe laughed at that, same as he had since he was tiny.

Finn beamed at him. “Okay,” he shouted. “Let’s bounce!”

Poe turned towards the door and started shoving his way through the crowd. Finn followed at Poe’s heels, one hand on Poe’s back to keep their bodies connected. For a moment, Poe felt like he was dancing again, between the alcohol-slick floor and the high-beamed ceiling. He grinned, just because he could, and led Finn outside.

 

 

 

In the open air of the street, everything was a little colder and quieter and sharper. Finn shoved his hands into his pockets and tucked his elbows to his sides. Poe shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and held it out.

Finn waved him off. “Nah, man, I’m good.”

“Take it, buddy. Don’t want you to freeze to death. That would kinda put a damper on the date, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not going to—” Finn rubbed a hand over his hair. “Okay. Fine. Thank you.”

He reached out, very slowly, and took the jacket from Poe’s hand. Put it on, equally slowly, smirking a little. Giving Poe a show. Poe’s eyes caught on Finn’s hands, the way his shoulders filled out the jacket, the soft arc of his hair over his head, and the sweet quirk of his smile.

“You want to—” Poe started. How did people do this? Was there a script? He should have read the rules online, oh fuck, how was he thirty-two and still didn't know how to play the game— “Go back to my place?” he asked at last.

“I’d love to,” Finn said softly, and reached out. Poe took Finn’s hand, swung it by his side, and set off down the street with easy strolling steps. The fall-crisp air was bracing, but it had nothing on the electric jolt of Finn’s hand, fingers wrapped around Poe’s, callus-rough and dry as Poe’s mouth.

Poe swallowed.

 

 

 

Poe held the door open for Finn and followed him up the stairs, dress shoes clicking neatly on the steps. “Enjoy the view?” Finn asked, when they finally reached the door to Poe’s apartment.

Poe looked at him, slightly flushed, one hand on the unlocked door. “I but the what who?” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You fucker.”

“Use what you’ve got, no?” Finn tried to suppress a wicked grin as he followed Poe inside.

“You didn’t need to do anything special, buddy,” Poe said dazedly. “You’re doing just fine as you are.” He swayed towards Finn, eyes wide and dark and entranced. Cupped Finn’s cheek in his palm, pressed his lips to Finn’s, and _yes, fuck yes,_ that’s where Poe’s lips always belonged. Finn tangled his fingers in Poe’s curls and lost himself in the sweetness of Poe’s kisses, tang of whiskey and mint and fuck knew what else, did it even matter, it was Poe, it was _Poe,_ warm and hard against Finn’s hips _—_

Finn’s hips rocked up against Poe’s without any conscious thought, cock equally hard and aching. Poe broke off the kiss very suddenly and lowered his head to Finn’s shoulder.

Finn immediately leaned back against the wall. “Sorry!” he panted. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. I—”

“No.” Poe’s voice dropped half an octave lower than usual, rough with desire. “It’s okay, buddy. I—” He bit his lip. “I just—”

Finn waited, trying to fix his mind on endless wastes of sand, the agony of a healing back. It usually did the trick, but there was something about Poe that made each boner more stubborn than the last. _Down, you,_ he snarled to his dick.

Poe stepped back, biting his lip. “So, um,” he said, and stopped. He had the strangest expression Finn had ever seen on him—part sheepish, part amused, part—nervous? “There’s, uh. Something I should probably tell you,” Poe coughed, jamming his thumbs into his pockets. “I’ve, uh. Never. Had sex before?”

Finn blinked. “You serious?” were the first words out of his mouth. Never had he cursed alcohol more in his life. “ _Sorry_. Shit. Hold on. Back up. I—” He scrubbed his hands back over his hair, trying to pull his thoughts together. “You’re thirty-two,” was his next try, even worse than before. “Fuck,” he groaned. “No. Dammit. Can we start over?”

“No, no, it’s okay, I get it—” Poe turned away, head down, shoulders up by his ears.

Finn touched Poe’s shoulders and turned him back around. “I’m _sorry._ Poe. I’m really sorry. Took me by surprise. That’s all. I don’t care. However much experience you have. Or don’t have. Whatever. I don’t care, ok? It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to do, or not do. It’s okay. I—” He shook his head, sick to his stomach. “I’m _sorry_. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine, it’s—”

“Poe.” Finn waited as Poe’s eyes slowly rose to meet his again. “I’m _sorry_. That wasn’t what I was supposed to say. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. Would it help if I said I don’t give a shit about how much experience you have? Because I don’t. I’m happy to do whatever you want to do. I’d be happy to sit here and drink tea again, if you want to. Or talk, or make out—clothes on, I know, that’s completely fine—or just call it a night. Whatever you want to do. Or—” He cleared his throat, finding his voice suddenly rough. “I’d be thrilled to be the first one to watch you come. Whatever you want. It’s up to you.”

Poe watched him for a moment, eyes hooded. Finn stared back, pleading with God or the spirits of the universe or anyone else who might be watching out for lovestruck men who say dumb shit.

Poe took a deep breath, then let it out. “Look, I know it’s weird. Trust me, it’s not something I ever wanted or planned for. It’s—it’s not something I’m ashamed of. But I just thought you should probably know. Before we go into anything. I just—wanted to be upfront about it.”

“I understand that. Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I didn’t respond the way I should have.”

“It’s okay, buddy. I forgive you.”

“Okay.” Finn sagged back against the wall. “Good. Then. I think I might start breathing again someday?”

“I mean—” Poe shrugged, smiling a little. “If you want to. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Well,” Finn snorted. “I’ll try not to.” He let his hands slide down Poe’s arms, took Poe’s hands, brought them to his lips, and kissed Poe’s fingers.

“Look,” Poe started. “I—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Poe bit his lip. “I want to—I just—it’s not a secret. I want to be straight with you.”

“That may be a tough one,” Finn said with a little smirk.

“You are the _worst,”_ Poe laughed. “And anyway, you’re one to talk. You’re no straighter than I am.”

Finn made a half-bow. “And proud of it.”

“Yeah.” Poe slipped one hand up to Finn’s cheek and brushed over his cheekbone. “You are. And it’s wonderful.”

Finn closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Poe took a slow breath. “I want to be honest with you, then,” he said. “Open. I think I’d feel better about it.”

“Okay. I understand that.”

“Right. So. Um. I mean. Anyway. I’ve already told you most of it, I think. In bits and pieces. I told you about my high school, right?”

“And Jess.” Finn let his fingers drag down to the scratch of stubble along Poe’s chin. “I like this beard much better.”

Poe cracked up into laughter, eyes crinkling up like star-lines. “Yes,” he gasped. “Well. I’ll tell her you said that.” He linked his arms around Finn’s neck, relaxed against him, and sighed. “And then,” he continued, sober again. “You know. ROTC. Air Force.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“For what? DADT’s not your fault. And—” Poe leaned his head on Finn’s shoulder. “At any rate, I got off easy. Didn’t get laid, whatever. Didn’t get thrown out, either.” He cleared his throat. “And then, I mean. Once I was back in civilian life—” He stopped.

“Yeah,” Finn whispered.

“Yeah. So. Like I told you, I just—wasn’t in a good headspace for a while. To think about, you know. Relationships. And shit. And the whole clothes-stay-on-thing basically killed my chances at dating. So. Here I am.” Poe’s shoulders lifted, fell.

“I see.” Finn nodded. “So. This means you’re—feeling better now?”

“Yeah.” Poe smiled at Finn. “It does. Much better, in fact.”

“Good. I’m—glad.” And oh fuck, was Finn ever. Poe still hadn’t told him exactly what happened to him over there, and probably never would…but Finn could draw in the shadows between the lines. And he knew as well as anyone else just how hard it was to come home from war. To learn how to live in an unfamiliar world.

“Thank you for telling me,” Finn added softly. “Trusting me. I’m sorry I—”

Poe cupped Finn’s face in his hands and kissed him. “You’re fine. Completely fine. Anyway, I was a dick to you at the end of our first not-quite-date. I’ve been hoping you’d even out the score someday.”

“Wonderful,” Finn snorted. “I’m so glad I could make you feel better. By—making you feel bad?”

Poe shrugged. “Whatever works, man.”

“Well, all right,” Finn shook his head. “What do you want to do now, then?”

“I don’t know.” Poe bit his lip.

Finn twined his fingers with Poe’s. “I can go home, if you like. Or we could…sit and talk? Play a game? Make tea? Get drinks? Make out on the couch again? Or, um. There are, uh. Plenty of things we can do. That don’t involve getting naked. If that’s something you want.”

Poe carefully leaned back against the cupboard. “Oh,” he said.

“I meant what I said the other day,” Finn said, eyes locked on Poe’s. “It’s completely fine if we don’t. I just want to spend time with you. I just—it occurred to me after our—conversation, the other night—that we do have options. That don’t involve getting naked. And since it hadn’t occurred to me yet, I thought maybe you hadn’t thought about it either. So. I just wanted to put it out there. It’s up to you. Whatever you want to do. If you’re not interested, I won’t mention it again.”

Poe bit his lip. “I want to do more with you,” he rasped, with so much naked longing that Finn had to blink hard for a moment to clear his eyes. “So much more. But—I don’t—” He leaned his head on Finn’s shoulder.

Finn’s arms came up to circle him of their own accord, a newly developed Poe-reflex that felt as natural as the skip in his breath whenever he greeted Poe. He leaned his head against Poe’s and waited.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Poe murmured at last.

Finn smiled at this non sequitur. “So did I.”

“Good.” There was an audible grin in Poe’s voice. “I’m glad. You seem to really love dancing.”

“I do.”

“We’ll have to go again sometime, then.”

“If it means dancing with you?” Finn laughed. “Yes, please.”

Poe snorted. “Likewise.” His arms tightened around Finn. “So, um. I feel like—I think—I’d rather end on a good note. And not, um. Risk anything.”

“Of course. That makes sense.”

“I probably shouldn’t have asked you up. Um. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you had fun. And—thank you for telling me. For being straight with me. Or, shit, um—”

“Go for it, buddy. Enjoy. You know how many years I’ve had to hold back from making gay jokes?”

“You’re right,” Finn laughed. “You’re so right. Need to make up for lost time, yeah?”

“You’re damn right I do.” Poe stroked Finn’s back. “But, uh—I should let you go home now.”

“Okay.” Finn started to turn towards the door, but found himself pinned in by Poe’s embrace. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Poe stepped back, eyes locked onto Finn’s. “But you need to be kissed.”

“Do I,” Finn laughed.

Poe bit his lip.

“Then why are you all the way over there?” Finn asked, suddenly hoarse.

Poe stared at him for a moment, stepped forward, hesitated, launched himself at Finn, pinned Finn’s hands to the wall above his head, and kissed Finn fiercely, fervently, like they might never get another chance.

Finn groaned into the kiss and brought their joined hands down, looping his around Poe’s neck and pulling him in even closer. He spread his fingers across the wide planes of Poe’s shoulderblades, traced the muscles of Poe’s back beneath the crisp lines of his shirt, and cupped Poe’s ass in his hands. Poe’s breath shuddered out against Finn’s cheek. He was hard, Poe was hard, the stiff fabric of their pants rubbed maddeningly against his cock, the percentage of blood in their groins versus their brains—no, never mind, math and erections ware incompatible.

Poe’s body was hot in Finn’s arms, muscle and cloth and hitching breath and _oh god_ Finn could stay here forever. When Poe finally paused to catch his breath, Finn ran his fingers through Poe’s hair, soft and lush and curling between his fingers. Poe pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek, then his jaw. Finn tipped his head back against the wall, not sure his neck was still capable of holding up his head. Poe took this as an invitation to kiss Finn’s neck, one hand splayed over his collar.

And _yes, yes, neck kisses, yes, please yes, oh god yes—_ Finn’s breath hitched. His collar was in the way, buttoned up far too high, but he was afraid that if he stopped to unbutton anything, he’d startle Poe away, like a butterfly that had alighted on his arm. He pulled Poe’s waist closer instead and closed his eyes, drinking it in. Poe’s lips were soft and sweet on Finn’s neck, his breath warm and faintly tinged with whiskey.

When Poe broke off for a moment, Finn leaned forward to press a kiss to Poe’s forehead, cheek, jaw, neck. Poe shuddered in his arms and drew closer, closer, closer. He cupped Finn’s cheek in one hand, drew him in for a kiss that nearly made Finn’s knees buckle, then broke away, breathing hard.

Finn stroked Poe’s back. Poe leaned against him, head bowed, eyes wide, mouth parted. He blinked a few times, dazed.

“You still need to be kissed,” Poe managed at last. “More. Much more.”

“I definitely do,” Finn croaked. “Oh god. All the time.” He pressed his lips together just to feel their soreness. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that. And I’ve loved all of it so far, believe me. But that was—that was—fuck. That was something else.”

“Glad you liked it,” Poe said, with a hint of a smirk. His cheeks were still flushed, and his lips were as kiss-reddened as Finn’s felt. “Maybe we can do it again?”

“Please,” Finn managed, and leaned back against the wall for support. “Yes. Yes please. Can we? Please?”

Poe’s teeth flashed in the dim light of the entryway as he laughed. “Anytime, buddy.” He fiddled with the button of his suit jacket. “And, um. That last option you mentioned.” He cleared his throat. “Watching me come. Can I get a rain check on that?”

Finn’s eyes felt far too big for his face. “Um—” He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, you can. Want me to sign an IOU?”

Poe grinned at him and extended his hand. “Sounds good to me.”

Finn shook Poe’s hand. “Let me know when you want to call it in, okay?” he said. He couldn't quite figure out why he should drop Poe’s hand, so he didn’t.

“Okay,” Poe said, very soft. He darted forward for one last swift kiss, hand cool on Finn’s cheek, then dropped back. “Good night,” he said.

“Good night. Oh, wait, shit, here’s your jacket—” Finn started to tug the jacket off to hand to Poe.

“Keep it.” Poe bit his lip. “I mean, I’d like to see it on my floor someday. But you should keep it. It’s cold tonight, and—” Poe ran his hand down the cool leather as it curved over Finn’s bicep. “It suits you.”

Finn’s smile faded. “I have a jacket. I just didn’t think to bring one tonight.”

“I know that. I don’t mean this as—charity, or whatever. It’s a _gift._ You know how much I like that jacket.”

“Yeah,” Finn said reluctantly.

“So. It’s a gift. To you. If you want it. Because I—I like you.”

Finn rubbed his thumb over the worn leather for a moment, thinking this over. At last he smiled again. “Thank you, then. It’s really lovely. And I—I like you too.”

A grin slowly dawned across Poe’s face, bright and beautiful. “Glad to hear it.”

Finn reached out to Poe again. Brushed his thumb over Poe’s cheek, then under his ear. Tangled his fingers in Poe’s hair. Pressed a soft kiss to Poe’s lips. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For the jacket, and the kisses, and the dancing, and everything.”

“A pleasure.” Poe kissed Finn back, eyes crinkling in delight. “Text me, okay?”

“I will.” Finn smiled at Poe, and then his hand was on the doorknob and the door was open and he was stepping out into the hallway and Poe was looking at him, cheeks still flushed, hair tousled in all directions, lips curving up in a sweet kiss-bright smile. Finn smiled back at him, and blinked, and then he was already out in the street, waiting for the bus, tugging Poe’s jacket tighter around his body, closing his eyes to feel Poe’s kisses warm him from the inside out.

 

 

 

Poe checked the locks on the door for the second time, then stood in the fluorescent glare of his empty kitchen and blinked at the wall where they kissed.

It was a wall. It was just a wall.

He leaned back against the counter, slid down to the floor, pressed his fingers to his lips, and stared at the wall, waiting for it to catch on fire.


	4. back to safe ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: PTSD symptoms, including flashback and nightmare.

Poe tucked his leg up beneath him to stop it from jiggling and took a deep breath. “I want to work on the scars,” he said.

“Wonderful!” Dr. Singh smiled at him. “Any particular reason? Or do you just feel ready now?”

“I don’t feel ready.” Poe cleared his throat. “But—I want to. I need to. I’m going to. And if it doesn't help then—then I’ll—” He stopped. “I don’t know. But I want to try to work on them now, and see if I can get a bit more comfortable with them. So I can be—be naked—without dissociating.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dr. Singh clasped his hands over his knee and beamed at Poe. “And I really do believe you can do it. Do you want to start today?”

Poe stared at him. Swallowed. Straightened in his seat. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I do.”

 

 

 

“Okay,” Finn said, bringing the last dish to the table. “Here we go. These might be an acquired taste? Rey thought a few of these were kinda weird the first time she tried them, and she eats _everything._ So. If you don’t like it, it’s okay. I won’t be—”

“Finn.” Poe laid a hand over Finn’s. “It smells wonderful. Can I try some?”

“Yeah. Okay. Of course. Coming right up.” Finn dished a little of each onto Poe’s plate, then his. “So. Ah. This is called iyan, it’s pounded yam, kind of like mashed potatoes but it—stretches, I guess? And holds together. This is egusi soup—it’s mostly ground melon seeds, and a few other vegetables too. And the meat on top is beef. And this is—”

“Platanos!” Poe supplied, surprised. “That one I know.”

“Yeah?” Finn grinned at him. “Plantains are basically my favorite food on earth.”

“Mine too. Well, that and ice cream. But still.”

Finn laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. As my mom—my foster mom—would say, bismillah. Dig in.” He picked up a mouthful, then noticed Poe’s sudden confusion.

“Shit,” Finn choked, and put the food back down, stomach clenching, face painfully hot. “I’m so sorry, I can get you silverware, hold on, shit, I’m so sorry—” _How the fuck did I forget?_ he snapped at himself. _Too distracted by Poe, I’m such a—_

“Whoa.” Poe grabbed Finn’s arm as Finn scrambled up from the table. “Hey. Buddy. It’s okay. I was just—uh. I probably should have done my research first. You normally eat with your hands?”

“Not— _normally,_ I mean, I—I know how to eat with silverware, I—”

“I know that, buddy. I’ve seen you. I meant for Nigerian food.”

“Um. Well. I mean, it’s what I used to—back home—back there—but—it’s not necessary, not everyone does, I can get you silverware, I—”

“It’s okay, man.” Poe tugged Finn back down. “I’m sorry people have given you shit for it.”

“People haven’t—” Finn stopped.

Poe raised a brow.

“They don’t—they just—give me weird looks, I guess. When I tell them.”

Poe raised the other brow.

“And laugh,” Finn sighed, “yeah, sometimes. It’s fine. They don’t, like—mean anything by it.”

Poe cocked his head.

“At least, not usually,” Finn shrugged. “Whatever. I just don’t eat with my hands in public, it’s not worth the hassle.”

“Assholes,” Poe muttered. “I’m sorry, Finn.” He looked down at his plate, then at his hands. “Um. Okay. Is there, like, a trick to it? Because I have a feeling I’m about to get soup all down my shirt in front of my boyfriend, and that would be really embarrassing.”

“There is,” Finn said, with a tentative smile. “And you know, you’re only the second person who’s ever asked me that. But I can go get you silverware, really, it’s—”

“I want to eat this the way it’s meant to be eaten,” Poe said firmly, eyes level with Finn’s. “So. Teach me?”

Finn looked at him for a long moment. “Okay,” he said at last, and cleared his suddenly tight throat. “Here.” He reached for Poe’s right hand. “Like this. You pull off a handful of iyan, and then you use it to scoop up the egusi soup.”

“Huh. Okay. I can do that.” Poe scooped up a mouthful of soup and tried it. His eyes widened.

Finn forgot how to breathe.

Poe took another bite. “Well,” he said at last. “At least you’ve got a backup career if this activism business ever goes bust.”

Finn snorted. “You don’t need to flatter me. It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

“Buddy.” Poe grinned at him. “It’s _delicious._ This is spicier than my abuela’s gallo en perro. It’s giving me new life. And I don’t flatter, you know that. I’m not that socially advanced.” He nodded toward Finn’s plate. “You going to eat that, or do I get to finish this all by myself?”

By the end of the meal, Finn had no idea what he had eaten, or served, or cooked. There was a faint sticky residue on his right hand when he rose to wash in the kitchen sink, and the slow burn of spice on his tongue, so he must have eaten something, right? Right?

Who knows. The delighted glint in Poe’s eyes, the flash of his sweet smile, the whirl of his hands as he gestured, and the flush on his cheeks from the spice made everything else fade away.

 

 

 

The midafternoon sunshine glinted in the still-wet trees of the park, catching on the last few drops of rain falling from the low-hanging branches. Poe flinched as one cold drop landed on the back of his neck and trickled down beneath his collar. “Remind me whose idea this was?” he muttered. The park bench was cold and wet beneath his ass, not nearly as romantic as he’d hoped.

Finn laughed and elbowed his side. “Yours, goofball. Look around. Isn’t it pretty?” He waved a hand around at the rain-spangled autumn leaves, cascading from the half-bare trees to the muddy ground. Poe followed the line of Finn’s fingers back up his arm, shoulder, up the elegant column of his neck, over the confident cut of his jaw, along the fine slope of his nose—

“Poe,” Finn said. The sun caught on a few drops of rain clinging to his hairline as he smiled.

“What?” Poe blinked at him.

Finn laughed. “I said, I love it when the leaves start to fall like this. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Fucking gorgeous,” Poe said, eyes on the bright flash of Finn’s smile.

“Flatterer.” Finn rolled his eyes.

Poe shrugged. “Just teling the truth. But hey, believe what you want. That’s okay.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back beneath the dim sunshine. “What did you—”

A deafening crack jolted Poe’s gaze across the park. A flurry of shrieks and shouts, a cluster of people scattering away, and then Poe saw it: a massive branch of one of the ancient sycamores was half-broken at the base, dangling towards the ground, swaying in the sudden gust of wind. _The storm last night must have knocked it loose,_ he realized. He breathed slowly to calm down, grounding himself safely on the bench.

The branch cracked again, lashing Poe’s breath like an anti-aircraft gun. Only a handful of lingering spurs connected the branch to the tree. With a series of sharp pops, each spur detached. The branch plummeted to the ground in a cacophony of destruction.

“Shit,” Poe breathed, one hand to his pounding heart. “That could have been bad.” He waited a moment longer to see if anyone was caught by the debris, but the onlookers around the perimeter of the wreckage were just snapping photos, chattering with each other, and calmly walking away. Poe shook his head and turned back to Finn. “That was a little more excitement than I expected—” He stopped. “Finn? Finn!”

Finn was staring straight ahead, breathing fast, hands shaking.

_Shit. Shit shit shit god fucking damn._

Poe slid off the bench and crouched before Finn. “Hey.” His voice cracked. “Finn.” He took a deep breath and spoke as slowly and calmly as he could. “Finn. You’re okay. You’re in the park. With me. You can hear me, right? This is a flashback. You’re still here. Everything is okay.”

Another crack; Poe winced and looked back over his shoulder. A smaller branch plummeted through the air and crashed down atop the splintered remains of the first branch. Finn flinched away, breath coming faster.

_SHIT FUCK GODDAMN._

They needed to get away from the noise, find a quiet place where Finn could calm down, there must be some place around here—

“Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” Poe stood up and jammed his hands into his pockets to remind himself not to touch Finn. “You’re safe here. It’s safe to walk. Come walk with me.”

Finn’s mouth trembled.

“Come walk with me,” Poe rasped, hands shaking.  “Please.”

Finn shoved to his feet, braced for action.

“Good. Okay. That’s good. You’re doing great.” Poe waved an arm towards the path, not sure if Finn could really see him. “This way. Ok?”

Poe walked slowly towards the line of trees at the edge of the park and ducked beneath the low branches. Finn stumbled after him, shaking, grabbing for a nonexistent gun on his back.

“Here,” Poe said, once they’d gotten far enough away. “Why don’t we sit down here?”

They were surrounded by low evergreen shrubs, sheltered from the noise of the park. Finn dropped to one knee on the damp grass, still fumbling for his gun. Poe crouched near him, out of punching distance—Jess had learned that one from him, the hard way, and he didn’t know how Finn was likely to react. “You’re okay,” Poe said again, quiet. “You’re safe. Buddy. You’re here, in the park, with me. Everything is okay.”

Finn’s thumb rubbed an insistent pattern on his thigh, scraping over the rough denim. He mouthed something to himself, too fast for Poe to make out. _Flashback,_ maybe? It was hard to tell. Finn slowly curled in on himself, knees pulled into his chest, head buried in his arms, still shaking uncontrollably.

“You’re okay,” Poe rasped. “You’re safe. Everything is okay.” He wasn’t really sure if the words were for himself or for Finn. But he had to do _something,_ god, he knew what it felt like to be curled in that ball. He wrapped his arms around his own chest, trying to keep himself grounded.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, Finn took a slow, ragged breath, picked his head up, and squinted around the clearing. When his eyes fall on Poe, he flinched back.

Poe raised his hands before his chest, eyes locked on Finn. “It’s okay,” he said, very soft. “It’s me. Poe. You’re safe.”

Finn’s mouth worked for a moment, searching for words. His hands clenched tightly over each other.

“Is it all right if I hug you?” Poe murmured.

Finn shook his head.

Poe tucked his hands beneath his armpits instead, aching. “You want some water?” he tried instead. He pulled a tiny flask from his pocket.

Finn nodded. He accepted the flask from Poe, propped himself up on one elbow, uncapped it, drank, and closed his eyes.

Finn breathed deeply, unsteadily. Sipped from the flask again. “You carry water,” he croaked.

“Yeah.” Poe cleared his throat. “Helps pull me back a little, sometimes. Ground me. I found this flask—it’s small enough to keep in a pocket. I can find one for you too, if you like.”

Finn’s lips twitched up in what was not even remotely a smile. “Mints, sometimes.” He cleared his throat. “Used to. Carry.” He sat up slowly, still hunched in on himself. Muttered something Poe couldn’t quite hear that ended in _fuck._ That, he understood.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he said, very soft.

Finn’s eyes fly up to his, startled. “What? No. _I’m_ sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining the date. I—”

“Buddy.” Poe shifted closer, remembered not to touch Finn, and shoved his hands in his pockets again. “Not your fault, my god. Don’t worry about it.”

“I haven’t had—” Finn’s hand flipped out in a half-wave. “In a while. Thought I was—”

Finn stopped, but Poe knew how that sentence was supposed to end. _Done,_ he supplied, _you’re never done, there’s always more trauma where that came from. And for you, my god, an entire childhood. Fuck._

“I’m sorry,” Finn said again.

“It’s okay, buddy. Really. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry that it happened.” Poe bit his lip. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want to call someone? Or go home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said. His face just didn't look right without a smile. Not even lit up with passion. Just—dull. Exhausted.

“I know,” Poe said quietly. “I also know that _I_ usually want to retreat for a while after something like this. Do you?”

Finn nodded again.

“Can I walk you home, then? I don’t need to come in, if you don’t want me to, I just—I’d like to see you home safe. If that’s okay with you.”

Finn stared at the ground, capped the flask, rubbed its smooth metal sides. “Okay,” he murmured at last. He handed the flask back to Poe and shoved to his feet, still unsteady. Poe rose with him and ducked out of the clearing, mind tracking back and forth along an endless loop of _oh god oh god oh god don’t put him through that ever again please, there must be some mercy left in the world, please, please, please, oh god._

 

 

 

Finn trudged up the last flight of steps to his fourth-floor walk-up and fumbled for his keys. It took him far too many tried to fit the blade into the lock, then the deadbolt. Pulsing music blared out from inside—Finn winced. “Turn it down, please,” he rasped as he stepped inside. “Rey?”

Rey popped up from where she’d been doing pushups on the floor of their living room, out of sight behind the kitchen counter. “Finn? Hey. Hey!” She bashed at an ancient stereo until the music stopped, then lunged toward Poe. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

Poe raised his hands and stumbled backward. “Whoa, whoa—”

“Rey,” Finn croaked. “Rey!” he snapped, when she looked dangerously close to throttling Poe. “He didn’t do anything, ok?”

“Like hell he didn’t do anything,” Rey bit out. “You look—”

“He didn’t do anything,” Finn repeated. “We were out in the park. I had a flashback. Poe—” Finn stopped short. “Was really nice about it,” he said slowly. His eyes flicked up to Poe’s and held. “Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” Poe said, startled. “You’re welcome. Um. I’m glad I could help.”

Finn leaned back against the counter. The lines of his face still slanted downward in utter exhaustion.

Poe bit his lip. “Are you—going to be all right?” he asked. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Go, please,” Finn said quietly.

“Okay.” Poe bit his lip. “Text me—if you want to meet up again? Anytime.”

There was something unreadable in Finn’s eyes. “Okay,” he said at last, with the faintest hint of a smile. “I will.”

“Good.” Poe shifted in place. “Um. See you. I hope you feel better.”

Finn’s smile grew into the narrowest crescent of a moon. “Thank you,” he said.

Poe nodded, jiggling his leg. He opened the door, stepped out, and snicked it shut behind him. Rey moved instantly to shut the locks and check them again. Finn carefully made his way around a pile of machine parts, stepped into their room, swept a pile of textbooks off his bed and onto the floor, eased himself down to his bed, and closed his eyes.

“Anything I can do?”

Finn’s eyes flicked open again.

Rey stood over him, rubbing her elbows. “Including the standard ‘shut up and go away’ option,” she added.

“He was really nice,” Finn said. He scooted back on the narrow bed to make room.

Rey sat beside him.

Finn took a deep breath. “He didn’t—freak out, or anything,” he said at last. “He just—cared for me. And other people have done that, I mean—you’re great at it. But—but there was something different. In what he did. He just—” Finn stopped. “He gets it.”

“I’m glad.” Rey reached out and patted his shoulder. She was quiet for a long moment. Finn closed his eyes and took comfort in the echoed rhythm of their breath. At last Rey smiled to herself. “Should I start teaching you how to make pancakes?” she asked.

Finn snorted. “I’m not—I mean—we’re just dating, it’s not like—”

Rey cackles. “I’ll take that as a yes. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“You’re impossible,” Finn muttered, but he’s smiling for real now. “You planning to let me take a nap in peace one of these days?”

“Well,” Rey sighed. “If you insist.” She slid off the bed and backed toward the door. “Shall I turn out the light?”

“Yeah, please. Thank you.”

With a quiet flick, shadows settled across Rey’s face. “Sweet dre-eams,” she sang, then shut the door behind her.

Finn rolled onto his back. Light from beneath the door streaked across the ceiling. He fixed his mind on the morning, the sun through the leaves, the rain-damp air against his skin, Poe’s hand in his.

_He gets it,_ Finn thought. _He really gets it._

Finn curled up on the bed, pulled a blanket over his shoulders, and tucked it in tightly around his body until he felt secure again. He closed his eyes and watched Fatimatou pour tea, higher and higher and frothier and frothier. She filled the tiny glasses, picked one up, and handed it to him. But when he took the glass, half asleep and breathing slowly, it was Poe’s hand that clasped around his, fingers tea-warm and scented with mint.

When he lifted the cup to his lips, Poe was still watching him with those eyes, those goddamn earth-bright eyes, bringing Finn back to safe ground.

 

 

 

“Hey, Poe. What’s up?” Finn ducked into his and Rey’s room and closed the door to shut out the music from Rey’s phone. Rey stopped it anyway and started clattering around, probably cleaning up from dinner.

“Hey. I just. Um.” Finn could almost see Poe tugging at his hair, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “I was just calling because—um. I don’t want to interrupt if you’ve got anything—going on, I mean—”

“Poe.” Finn leaned against the window, cradling the phone close to his ear as though that might help him make sense of Poe’s words. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”  

“I just—” Poe’s breath crackled through the connection. “I was just—wondering if you wanted to come over for a bit, maybe. Tonight. I know it’s late notice, you probably have—”

“Poe. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’ll be fine. I’m okay.” _Repeating it doesn’t make it true, Poe,_ Finn thought _._ “I just thought—I sort of wanted—some company, maybe.”

“I’d love to come over,” Finn said slowly. “But you don’t normally want company when you’re—”

“I know. I know. But I do tonight? I think? I don’t know. It’s kind of an experiment. I might—I might—I’m not sure I’m actually—so, forget it, sorry, this isn’t fair to you, I’m sorry, forget I asked—”

“Poe. You’re sure you’d rather me than, like, Jess? Or your dad?”

“Yes.” Poe sounded a bit steadier. “Look.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to come. It’s really okay. You have a life. You don’t need to drop it. I just—I kind of wanted to see you. But I don’t really have the perfect energy tonight for, like, company. Doing things. Going out, or something. So. I was just calling to see if you wanted to just—like—hang out, or something.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Yeah?” Poe’s voice cracked. Finn could almost see his smile, wide enough to split his face open. “You really don’t have to, it’s okay—”

“I want to,” Finn said, with a smile of his own. “I’d love to see you tonight. I’ll bike over in a moment, be there in—maybe half an hour, okay?”

“That’s okay. That’s really okay. That’s great. You can bring your work, or whatever, I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do tonight—”

“Just about finished. But I’ll bring my readings, maybe work on them later.”

“Okay. Great.” Poe hesitated. “Thank you,” he said, very quietly. “Just—thank you. So much. You’re a good man, Finn.”  

 

 

 

“Sorry.” Finn wiped his feet as best he could on the welcome mat before stepping into Poe’s apartment. “It’s a little wet out there.”

“A _little?_ Jesus, Finn. You’re half soaked! When the rain started, I tried to call you to tell you to stay in, stay dry, but you didn’t pick up. Did you get my text?”

“Yeah.” Finn shrugged. “But I was already halfway across town. I stopped to check it, because I thought maybe you didn’t want me to come after all, but then I saw that you were just worried about me getting wet—” He grinned. “I don’t mind a little rain.”

“Well, damn.” Poe shook his head. “Come in, come in! Can I make you tea, or something?”

“Tea sounds great.” Finn dropped his helmet and backpack in the corner, kicked off his shoes, and shook the worst of the water out of his hair. “What did you want to do tonight?”

“Whatever you’d like! You said you still had readings to do?”

“Always,” Finn grinned. He followed Poe into the kitchen.

“Then why don’t you work on that? If you want to. And I’ll just read, or something.” Poe filled the hot water heater and reached up into the cupboard for a pair of mugs.

“Sounds good.” Finn’s eyes caught on the way Poe’s hands shook as he set the mugs on the counter with a slight clatter.

Poe opened a cupboard full of tea and stepped back. “What kind of tea do you want?”

“Is there anything I can do?” Finn asked. “To help.”

Poe laughed. “It’s okay, buddy. I know how to make tea, I promise.”

“Not with the tea,” Finn said.

Poe looked at him. The ever-present circles under his eyes were darker than usual.

Finn reached out a hand.

“I’m _fine,”_ Poe bit out. “What kind of tea do you want?”

Finn dropped the hand. “Mint, or rooibos? Or whatever you’ve got, I like trying new kinds.”

“You like rooibos too?” Poe flashed him a grin. “That’s my favorite. I’ve got rooibos and cinnamon, good for a rainy evening, right?”

“Sounds great.”

Poe reached up and took the box down with a precise care that didn’t quite hide the tremor in his hands. In silence, he ripped open the packets, set one teabag in each mug, and tossed the packets into the trash.

Finn waited.

“Can’t believe you biked all the way here in the pouring rain,” Poe said.

“Worth it,” Finn said, with a small smile.

Poe looked up. His lips twitched up into a smile of his own. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Finn said.

Poe looked up at the disorganized array in the cupboard, shifted a few of the boxes of tea aside to make room, and shoved the box of rooibos in among the mess. The hot water heater rumbled quietly to itself.

Finn waited.

Poe ran a hand along the spotless countertop as though brushing away nonexistent crumbs. “I just—”

Finn waited.

Poe braced his hands on the counter. “I hate the rain,” he muttered. “I feel like I can’t go outside, and I haven’t seen the sun in a week, and I know that I _can_ go outside but it’s not very pleasant when I do so I feel stuck in here and there’s plenty of space and it’s bright and clean, it’s clean, it’s okay, but—” He leaned his head against the cupboards and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, very soft. “We can go out, if you’d like.”

Poe snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘dance in the rain’ people.”

“No. I don’t like rain much either.” Finn made a face. Too many nights huddling in the damp, trying to shelter from a hard rain that allowed no shelter. “Rey does, so she’s convinced me to go dance in the rain with her a few times. But still. That’s what umbrellas and raincoats are for, no?”

Poe cut his eyes at Finn. “You serious?”

Finn grinned at him.

The hot water heater clicked off. Poe automatically reached for it, then set it back down and looked at Finn. “Really, though. You serious?”

Finn grinned wider.

“I only have one umbrella,” Poe said.

Finn shrugged. “I’m already wet.”

Poe squinted. “Is that what she said?”

“How would you know?” Finn smirked at him.

“Below the belt! Ouch.” Poe shook his head. “Remind me again why I put up with you?”

“Because I get you out of your damn apartment?” Finn laughed. “Come on, Dameron. Let’s get soaked.”

Poe looked down at his feet. His hands clenched, unclenched. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to?” Finn asked, very soft. His thumb rubbed back and forth over the smooth stovetop.

“Yeah.” Poe nodded. “Yeah. I do.” He looked up at Finn with a flash of a grin. “Think I have a raincoat somewhere. Want that or the umbrella?”

 

 

 

It was _pouring_ by the time they got outside, huddling beneath an umbrella (Finn) and a raincoat (Poe). Headlights skipped and slid over vast puddles in the street. Finn held out his hand again. This time, Poe took it.

Finn handed his umbrella to Poe. Poe took it automatically before realizing what was happening. “What? Wait. Buddy—”

Finn stepped backward down the sidewalk, hands spread wide, grinning from ear to ear. “Come get wet!” he calls.

“Oh shit,” Poe muttered. “What did I do to deserve you?” he called. “Kick a puppy? Cut down a forest?”

Finn jumped backward into a puddle and kicked water at Poe. “Coward!”

“Oh, it is on.” Poe folded the umbrella, set against the wall, and approached, hands extended into dinosaur claws. “Going to get you.”

“Yeah?” Finn rasped. He opened his arms wide to head off any attempts to play-wrestle, heart pounding in his ears.

“Yeah.” Poe latched onto Finn’s face instead, dragged him closer, and kissed him thoroughly.

“Wow,” Finn said when Poe finally breaks away for air. “I think I like being gotten. You can get me like that anytime, ok?”

“Okay,” Poe laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Quieter, he added, “Sorry. I wasn’t going to attack you, but I should have—I forgot, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again—”

“It’s okay.” Finn pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for stopping.” He took Poe’s hand. “Now for our lovely walk.”

“Seriously?” Poe pulled up the collar of his jacket even further. “You’ve got to be soaked down to your boxers, man. This rain isn’t fucking around.”

“I’m _so_ wet,” Finn said with a lascivious grin. “But hey. You wanted to go outside, no?”

“Oh, fuck,” Poe sighed. “I did, didn’t I? Where’d I leave that damn umbrella?” He grabbed it back, unfurled it over both of their heads, and took Finn’s arm. “Lead on, my hero.”

 

 

 

By the time they finally ducked back into Poe’s apartment, they were dripping wet and full of laughter. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to go out there,” Poe gasped. Water sluiced down his raincoat, spreading out in a puddle on the floor. “Ugh, my hair must be a mess.” He attempted to rearrange it.

Finn laughed.

Poe winced. “What? Is it really that bad?”

“Nah.” Finn stepped forward and fingercombed Poe’s hair into some semblance of order. “It was just—the look on your face. You looked like someone had—I don’t know, run over your cat, or something. Your hair is fine.”

Finn couldn't quite bring himself to stop riffling through Poe’s hair. “Your hair is—really fine,” he said at last, not quite sure why English suddenly felt like a textbook he’d crammed the night before the exam.

“Fine, huh?” Poe batted his lashes at Finn. “I see how it is.” He bracketed Finn’s feet with his sodden shoes, set his hands on Finn’s hips, and pulled Finn in close. “Your hair is fine too, for the record.” He leaned his head on Finn’s shoulder. “More than fine.”  

Finn relaxed into the hug. The heat of Poe’s body started to press through his chilled clothes, warming him— “Shit.” Finn stepped back. “I’m getting your shirt all wet. After that nice raincoat—”

“You’re fine, buddy. Want to dry off, though? You should go shower, warm up. I can throw these in the dryer and get you some sweats. Come on, you’re shivering.”

“I’m not—okay, maybe I am.” Finn let Poe steer him into the bathroom.

“Hang on, let me get you—” Poe darted back into his bedroom. Finn took a moment to squint at his own reflection in the mirror. The rain hadn’t done any favors for his own hair, but at least it hadn’t gotten quite as crazy as Poe’s. He turned away from the mirror just as Poe returned—

The mirror. Poe had a mirror in his bathroom now.

“What?” Finn put on a smile and tried to reorient himself. “Oh. Thank you!” He took the set of sweats from Poe. “I’ll try not to use up all the hot water.”

Poe laughed. “Go for it, buddy. I’m not nearly as wet.”

“Bet I could change that.”

Poe opened his mouth, then closed it. “Wrong equipment, buddy,” was all he said. He headed back down the hallway towards the living room. “But I bet you could, if you tried hard enough,” Finn heard, just before Poe disappeared around the corner.

Finn set the sweats on the closed toilet, stripped mechanically, and stepped into the hot water. He closed his eyes in bliss and tips his head back, finally feeling the shivers he hadn’t even noticed start to dissipate. He opened the shower curtain for a moment just to check—yes, there really was a mirror.

Poe had a mirror now.

With an irrepressible grin, Finn closed the curtain again, took a deep breath, tipped his head back, and bellowed out the opening notes of Fatimatou’s favorite aria, just because he could.

 

 

 

“You can’t sing,” Poe called over his shoulder when he heard Finn’s measured step down the hallway a few minutes later.

“Can too,” Finn said with an audible grin.

“Did you—” Poe turned around. His sweats fit Finn, as he’d assumed. They were nearly the same size, after all. But the sweats—just—but—they—

“Your turn to shower,” Finn said.

“I’m never going to be able to wear those sweats again,” Poe said, slightly dazed.

“What?” Finn turned, as though to check out his own ass, and smoothed his hands down the sides. “I’m sorry! Am I stretching them out, or—”

“No!” Poe laughed. “God, no. You’re—you’re just—” He stopped.

“Oh.” Finn stepped closer. He had got that low smirk again, the one that melted Poe’s brain into a housecat on a sunny windowsill. “Should I wear sweats more often, then?”

“Not if you want me capable of coherent thought. And no. Not your own sweats. You should wear mine. All the time.”

“Really.” Finn curled a hand around the nape of Poe’s neck and pulled him in close. “But then what would you wear?”

“Yours,” Poe managed, breathless.

Finn kissed him like he never intended to stop.

When he finally broke off, Poe clung to Finn’s shoulders. “Am I going to get kissed like that every time we go dancing in the rain?” he gasped. “Because let me tell you, that would be a pretty good incentive.”

There was something in Finn’s smile Poe couldn't quite decrypt. But— “Sure,” was all Finn said. “Maybe next time we can skip the rain part?”

“I’d try anything for you, buddy,” Poe laughed.

At that, Finn hugged him tight and buried his face in Poe’s shoulder. Poe wrapped his arms around Finn’s back.

“Go shower,” Finn rasped at last, and stepped back. “You must be freezing.”

Poe traced the line of Finn’s brow up and out to his hairline, trying to decipher his odd smile. “Okay,” he said. “I made the tea a minute ago, your mug’s in the kitchen, I covered it up, it should still be hot. And then we can—I don’t know. Just—hang out?”

“Sounds good,” Finn said, and kissed Poe’s forehead.

 

 

 

Finn folded his bottom lip between his teeth as he read. The light slanted down his face, catching on the furrowed planes of his forehead and the smooth line of his nose. His feet were tucked up beneath him, tilting him against the arm of the couch. Poe flipped a page of his book, then flipped back, realizing he didn’t even remember a word of the previous pages. For once it wasn’t because panic was stretching his mind thin. Instead—

With a heartfelt sigh, Poe uncrossed his legs and tilted carefully to the side. The move wasn’t nearly as graceful as he had hoped, but it did the job. With a soft smile, Finn stretched his legs out along the couch to either side of Poe. Poe curled his legs up to fit onto the couch and leaned back against Finn’s chest. He curled one hand around the warm muscle of Finn’s thigh and propped his book up with the other. Finn stroked Poe’s hair, combing out his still-wet (but newly re-gelled) curls.

Why bother reading? This was all Poe needed. He let his book slope shut, leaned his head back against Finn’s chest, and closed his eyes. Rain drummed against the roof. Wind whistled along the windows. Finn’s book rustled as he turned to a new page. Finn’s heartbeat thudded quietly beneath Poe’s ear. The soft scratch of Finn’s fingers through his hair ran straight down Poe’s spine, relaxing every muscle far better than any massage he’d ever had. Finn’s skin was warm against his, even through the layers of clothing.

Poe wasn't sure this feeling could ever possibly get old: pressed up against someone else’s body, safe within his skin. All he had to do was breathe.

He could do that.

It took him a long time to notice that Finn’s fingers had stilled in his hair. When he blinked awake, he realized that Finn’s pages weren’t rustling anymore, either. He slipped off the couch as quietly as he could and reached for the woolen throw on the back of the couch. Finn shifted awake just as Poe unfolded it, ready to cover Finn to keep him warm.

“What?” Finn blinked up at Poe.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I fell asleep? Shit.” Finn sat up unsteadily and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I should probably go home.”

“In the pouring rain? You’ll get soaked.”

“Already did,” Finn yawned. “Won’t hurt me.”

“I can call a taxi, or something. I’m the one who dragged you over here in this weather, I’ll pay—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re already exhausted, though. A half-hour bike ride through the rain can’t possibly help.”

“No?” Finn shrugged. “Will wake me up, that’s for sure.”

“You can stay here, if you want,” Poe said, very quiet.

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to—”

“It’s not a problem. I’ve got this lovely couch, after all. A shame not to use it. And—” A hint of mischief lit Poe’s eyes. “I do have a lovely bed, too. Plenty of room for two.”

Finn’s eyes caught Poe’s and held, fully awake now. “A bed,” he said.

“To sleep,” Poe clarified. “Just—to sleep. And it’s fine if you don’t want to, you’ve got your own routine. I’m serious about paying for the taxi. It’s no trouble, and it’s my fault you’re out here. I’m sorry, I—”

“Sleeping sounds nice,” Finn said slowly. “Are you sure—”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

Finn bit his lip.

Poe waited.

“I’d love that,” Finn said at last. “But, uh. I get nightmares. Pretty frequently. And sometimes kinda dramatically.”

Poe shrugged. “That’s okay. So do I.”

“I just—I don’t want to scare you, or anything.”

“I think I’ll be okay, buddy. What should I do if anything happens?”

“Don’t touch me to wake me up,” Finn said, eyes level and hard. “Especially if I’m having a nightmare. Sometimes a hug is nice when I come back to bed. Sometimes not. Otherwise—” he shrugged— “nothing you really need to do. I’ll probably get up. I’m usually pretty nauseous when I wake up from nightmares. I sometimes go outside, but probably not in this kind of rain. And I’m not sure it’s a great idea for me to go out running in the city at night, anyway.”

Poe frowned. “Yeah. Shit. Um. I”m sorry.” He shook his head. “Anything else?”

“I think that’s it.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“And for you?”

Poe thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Nothing I can think of. Um. I do sometimes have nightmares. And I have been known to wake up straight into a panic attack, but not often, thankfully. Hasn’t happened in a long time. And if that does happen, don’t worry about it. I know how to get through one. I think that’s it.”

“Okay,” Finn said easily. “And—I know you haven’t been feeling great lately, so if you want me gone, say the word.”

“Okay. I will. But if it’s two in the morning, I _am_ paying for that taxi.”

“Deal.” Finn extended his hand. Poe kissed it instead of shaking. Finn pulled him in with a laugh and hugged him tight.

 

 

 

“Is this ok? Do you have enough space?” Finn shifted backward to make more room. Poe slid back to meet him. “Oh, I see how it is,” Finn laughed. He wrapped an arm around Poe’s waist and hugged him close to his chest. “Mmm. This is much better.”

Poe folded Finn’s hand between his. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For coming. It did help. You do help, always.” He thought about that for a moment. “Well, okay, almost always. But still.”

“I’m glad,” Finn murmured. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Poe’s neck. “And I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Poe snorted. “Me too, buddy. Me too.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finn could feel Poe’s ribs slowly expand, then contract with each breath.

A crack of light slid across the ceiling, then passed. Another followed it, then another. The nightlight in the corner cast a faint warm glow across the room. Finn hadn’t slept in an unfamiliar bed in a long time—since he and Rey first moved in two years ago, perhaps. And he hadn’t slept with someone—in any sense of the word—in several months. This should have felt strange.

It’s didn’t.

It felt okay. Comfortable. Safe. _Right._

Finn closed his eyes and listened to the soft sigh of Poe’s breath. Before long, the warmth of his boyfriend’s body lulled him to sleep.

 

 

 

Poe sat outside the bathroom, listening to the harsh rattle of Finn’s breath. Eventually he heard the water run in the sink. A few moments later, the door creaked open—then stopped.

Poe craned his neck up to see Finn’s face. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Finn rasped.

“I’m sorry,” Poe said.

Finn shrugged.

Poe held out a hand. Finn sat next to him with a thud and rubbed his face. Poe tucked his hand back into his lap. “Do you rate your nightmares?” he asked.

“Fucking what?” Finn squinted at him between his fingers.

“I don’t know, one point for a bad dream, two for so bad it wakes you up? Five for screaming. Six for falling out of bed. Nine for throwing up. Ten for a panic attack…or maybe switch those last two? Anyway.”

“Do you rate yours?”

“Used to.”

“Well.” Finn pulled his knees to his chest. “I don’t think I’d rate my nightmares by what happens when I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmured. He reached toward Finn again, unable to stop himself. Finn took his hand this time. Poe kissed Finn’s fingers. Finn buried his face in his knees, but didn’t pull his hand from Poe’s.

For a long, silent moment they just sat there in the darkness, hand in hand. A car slowly trundled through the puddles below. The heat kicked on with a low hum and a hiss of air from the vents.

Poe’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. He scrambled desperately for a lullaby, a story, anything, goddammit, there must be something he could _do._ But he’d never been in this position, what the fuck could he even do, how could he possibly help, there was no way to help, why why why— Poe took a deep breath and let it out, dragging himself back to the present. “Can I hug you?” he croaked.

After a moment, Finn picked his head up. “Can we cuddle?” There was the slightest hint of a smile on his face, the crooked quirk that pulled Poe in like a moth around a porch light.

“Of course, buddy.” Poe smiled back. He stretched to his feet with an exhausted sigh and reached down to Finn—who was already tumbling into bed. Poe slipped in after him, cuddled up to his back, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You know,” Finn yawned. “I don’t think I’ve ever little-spooned before.”

“No?” Poe pressed in a little closer. “Damn shame. Waste of a fine ass, if you ask me.”

“You really are an ass man, aren’t you?”

“Not till I met you. But I know quality when I see it.”

At that, Finn laughed. “Well.” His thumb ran over the back of Poe’s hand. “Glad you appreciate it.”

Finn’s ass was, indeed, a fine one, warm and round against Poe’s thighs. The long muscles of his back heated Poe’s chest with the low warmth of a hurricane lamp. Finn’s fingers twined with his, gentle and elegant and sexy as hell. Best of all, Poe could hear the unsteady hitch of Finn’s breath slowly unspool into a sleepy cadence.

Unfortunately, spooning wasn't nearly as comfortable as it seemed like it should be. Within a few minutes, Finn shifted and Poe turned and Finn tucked the blankets up around his shoulders and Poe tugged his pillow closer and they drifted apart, side by side.

Poe stared up at the familiar shadows on his ceiling, the arc of the nightlight at the end of the bed. Listened to the irregular, still-awake rhythm of Finn’s breath. Thought about trying to sleep.

Finn brushed against the side of Poe’s hand. Poe looked at him. Finn’s mouth quirked into an uncertain smile. Poe took his hand with an answering smile that soon grew far too large for his face. Finn traced the line of his cheek with their joined hands. Poe kissed Finn’s fingers. Finn laughed, pulled Poe close, and kissed him.

When they finally fell asleep, side by side beneath the blankets, their hands were still entwined.


	5. something more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: references to scars, past trauma, and PTSD symptoms, none of which appear onscreen in this chapter.

**7:41pm Poe:** I just realized that we never actually talked about stuff. Like, triggers. And what we need. And all that. We were going to, at some point. And then I forgot.

 **7:41pm Finn:** Do you want to talk about it now?

 **7:42pm Poe:** Fuck no :X

But I think we probably should. Before anything else happens.

 **7:42pm Finn:** Before I flip out again, you mean.

 **7:43pm Poe:** I was going to say before I flip out again. But yeah.

 **7:43pm Finn:** Okay.

I mean, I don’t really want to either.

But you’re right, we should.

 **7:44pm Poe:** Or we could not and say we did.

 **7:44pm Finn:** Nah. We can do this.

 **7:45pm Poe:** Famous last words.

Okay fine you’re right okay let’s do this.

 **7:45pm Finn:** When are you free?

 

 _For the rest of my life,_ Poe thought. _Fucking bastards are dead. I’ve seen photos._ He shook his head to clear it. That’s probably not what Finn meant.

 

 **7:47pm Poe:** I think daytime might be easier. For me, at least.

 **7:48pm Finn:** Yeah, me too. Good call.

 **7:49pm Poe:** So…Saturday afternoon? What are you doing then?

 

 _You,_ Finn would normally text back, but not to Poe.

 

 **7:50pm Finn:** Having an important conversation with you, apparently. ;)

No solid plans yet.

 **7:51pm Poe:** You are a shameless flirt.

I like it.

Okay, so…is my apt ok? Maybe 2pm?

 **7:52pm Finn:** 2 sounds great!

 **7:55pm Poe:** Okay

Cool. See you then.

 **7:56pm Finn:** And we can always postpone if you need to. No rush.

 **8:01pm Poe:** I can do this. We can do this.

 

Finn smiled at his screen.  

 

 **8:01pm Finn:** Damn right we can.

 

 

 

 **11:21pm Poe:** I don’t think I can do this.

I’m sorry. I don’t want to flake so late.

But I don’t think I can talk about it.

I’m sorry.

 **11:23pm Finn:** That’s okay. We don’t have to. Or we can try again later.

Would it help to write it down instead? And then we could read each other’s. And maybe ask a few questions or something, but you wouldn’t have to recite it all.

 **11:31am Poe:** YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIUS BUDDY

I mean, still not fun to write it. But hopefully easier.

 **11:32am Finn:** Glad I could help :D

 

 

 

“Hey!” Poe leaned in and kissed Finn, just because he could.

“Hey.” Finn wrapped him into a bear hug, as always, and kissed him right back. “How’d the march go yesterday?”

“Good, so far as I’ve heard!” Poe waved Finn in and shut the door. “And Pava generally texts me to complain the moment something goes shitside up and she didn’t, so that’s a good sign. I’ll hear the full version when she gets back in town on Monday, I guess.” Poe waved a hand at the table. “Come on in, sit. Do you want tea, or anything?”

“That would be lovely.” Finn kicked his shoes off and followed Poe into the kitchen. “What’s the best tea for difficult conversations?”

“Whiskey,” Poe snorted.

Finn wrapped his arms around Poe from behind, reached up around his shoulder, and pulled down a box of chamomile tea. “How’s this look?”

“Perfect.” Poe twisted back in Finn’s arms and kissed his cheek. Finn braced his arms on the counter and leaned in to meet him. Poe linked his arms around Finn’s neck and pulled him in close.

Finn relaxed into the solidity of Poe’s arms. There was really nothing better than Poe’s body against his, one long line of warmth and life. Finn could feel the stiff curve of Poe’s back where the counter was digging into his spine, so he grabbed Poe’s hips and hoisted him up onto the counter. Poe’s breath hitched delightfully. He smiled into the kiss, wrapped his legs around Finn’s waist, and drew him in closer.

Finn reached down to cup Poe’s ass, just to hear the quiet hum Poe made when he did. He could really stay here all day, couldn’t he? Why shouldn’t they?

Poe broke off with a small sigh. “We need to do this,” he said.

“Spoilsport,” Finn muttered. He tried to convince himself to let go and step back.

“What happened to Mr. _We Can Do This?”_ Poe laughed.

“We can! We can also make out for a while first.”

“Fuck, that sounds nice.” Poe leaned his head on Finn’s chest. Finn combed through his tangled curls. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Poe asked at last.

“What?”

“Making me be the voice of reason who says ‘yes, we should go talk first.’”

“No,” Finn laughed. “But that’s a good idea. Can I pretend that’s why we’re still stuck here?” He pressed his lips to Poe’s hair, breathed in the smell of his hair, and sighed. The curls lifted, then settled. “I just like kissing you.”

“Well, good.” Finn could hear Poe’s grin. “I like kissing you too.” Poe stroked his back, then pushed him away with a regretful sigh. “But we need to talk now. So. Let’s talk.”

 

 

 

Finn didn't even notice that he was crumpling the edges of the paper over and over again until Poe’s hand smoothed over his and tangled their fingers together. Finn took a deep breath, let it out, and kept reading. Poe’s list was more disorganized than his, scratched out in a hasty scrawl. Finn could almost see Poe writing it, throwing the pen down, pacing around his apartment, scrubbing at his hair, taking a deep breath, and coming back with another item for his list.

Or maybe that’s just because it worked that way for him, although quieter and with less pacing. Finn had typed his manual up in the library’s computer lab after finishing his essay, in the quiet dark hours when the early-to-beds had already left and the late-to-rises hadn’t yet arrived. He hadn’t managed to list _everything,_ in the end—just enough to have something to go on. Over-conscious of the eyes on him, he’d clicked away from the doc every time someone passed and kept his freakout to the lowest possible simmer until he’d had to go hide in the bathroom and breathe for a while to calm down enough to continue.

It was surprisingly hard to write about—to put all of the thousand things he does every day to stay more or less okay into one cold hard list above a blinking cursor. Harder still to read Poe’s, hearing his quiet breath across the table, feeling Poe’s cool fingers entwined with his, reading between the uneven lines of his list and slowly piecing together some of what happened to him.

Most of Poe’s instruction manual was simple. In case of flashback or panic attack, don’t touch him. Don’t need to do anything at all, other than stay out of his way. Can talk to him, tell him he’s safe, help him slow his breathing, or try to reorient him in the present. At least shirt and shorts would always stay on, at least for now. Regular meals. Being able to smell food but not eat it was worst of all—well, that might explain Poe didn’t cook very often, Finn thought, suddenly seeing Poe curled up in his cell, smelling his captor’s cooking fire while he slowly starved to death.

Finn blinked and looked back down at Poe’s manual.

Plenty of sleep. On really bad days, when Poe was dissociating too much to function properly, Finn could check in with Kes or Jess if he got worried, and—

Finn looked up. He was out of his chair and kneeling by Poe before he even realized it. “Hey,” he said. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Poe buried his head in Finn’s shoulder and clung tightly to him, shaking. He mumbled something— ”What?” Finn asked.

“I’m sorry,” Poe repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, Poe, you have nothing to—”

“For what—what they—what you—” Poe wiped his eyes angrily on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to freak out, I know the basics of how—how you must have—what they—and you wrote that you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m talking about it, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Poe.” Finn stroked his back. He was weirdly numb and cold inside—or rather, it would be weird if it didn’t happen on a more or less daily basis.

“I’m sorry,” Poe said, clinging even harder. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Finn said softly, patting his back.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and—I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

Poe kissed Finn’s hair. “Going to say it again. But, um. Maybe only in my head from now on.”

Finn sighed. “I’m sorry, too,” he said softly, and closed his eyes. “For what happened to you.”

“Yeah.” Poe cleared his throat. “Well.” He sat back up in his chair and straightened the papers in front of him. “I’m almost done.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and slid back into his own seat. “So am I.” Poe stared blankly at the pages in front of him. Finn reached across the table. Poe tangled his fingers with Finn’s with a small, hesitant smile.

 

 

 

Answering Poe’s questions to clarify a few points on his list was even harder than writing them down in the first place. It was clearly hard for Poe too, judging from the white sheen of his knuckles on the handle of his mug, but he talked about it, clear and simple, eyes fixed on the ripple of steam from his tea. At last they were done, not nearly soon enough.

“Can I, um, keep it?” Poe asked. “The list. I, um. My memory. Is not really so great. Anymore.”

“Of course!” Finn scratched a brief note onto the bottom of Poe’s list and looked up again. “Is it okay if I keep yours?”

“Yeah, of course.” Poe disappeared with Finn’s list into his bedroom. Finn folded Poe’s in half, stuck it into his backpack to keep it safe, propped his elbows on the table, and leaned his head into his hands.

“Hey,” Poe said, very soft. Finn picked his head up. Poe was leaning against the wall by the table, looking at him with those goddamn soft dark eyes. “You want to go home? You look—tired.”

Finn stretched slowly, one hand on his back. “I’m okay. I think. You?”

Poe nodded. “Think so.”

“Cuddle time,” Finn said.

Poe’s grin flashed bright across his face, sweet and glorious. “Cuddle time,” he agreed, and held a hand out towards Finn. Finn took it and pressed his nose into the warmth of Poe’s shoulder, not quite sure how he’d gotten there. Poe’s arms wrapped around him like the solid weight of the strap of the gun Finn did not miss, secure and safe over his shoulder. Finn kissed Poe’s neck, just above his collar, and breathed in the familiar soap-sweat-leather of Poe’s skin. Poe stroked Finn’s back.

“We did it,” Finn said.

“We did,” Poe agreed. “This means we don’t have to anything like that ever again, right?”

Finn laughed. He could feel the rumble of Poe’s quiet laughter beneath his cheek. “Nice try, Dameron.”

“Well. A guy can hope, right?” Poe pulled back just far enough to see Finn’s face, then kissed him. “Cuddle time. Right?”

“Right.” Finn reluctantly stepped back and took Poe’s hand. “Lead the way, oh hopeful one.”

“Hope,” Poe said, then stopped. “Hope’s a good thing,” he said. He tugged Finn to the couch, collapsed onto it, and pulled Finn down with him. Finn stretched out on the vast couch and turned to face him. Poe tangled his legs with Finn’s and ran a toe up the curve of Finn’s calf. Finn laughed and cuddled closer. His arms fit around Poe like they were made to curl up together, two jagged halves of a locket. Poe cupped Finn’s face to him and kissed him. Finn melted into the couch, boneless and safe. He cradled Poe in his arms and kissed him right back.

It was weird, weird as all fucking hell, to talk and cuddle with and kiss someone who knew so much about him. He’d always kept that layer of reserve before. He didn’t want to talk about it and they didn’t want to hear about it and if something happened, well, they’d talk about it when it came up. But now—

He knew Poe. And Poe knew him. And what they were doing here wasn’t just kissing, anymore. It wasn’t just cuddling, or hanging out, or even dating. It was—

Well, he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. But it was something more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The second time Finn shifted in his chair and put a hand to the middle of his back, Poe looked up. “You okay, buddy?” he asked.

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Finn scratched down another line in his notepad and turned the page. Poe looked back at his laptop and tried to focus, but the words weren’t making sense anymore.

The third time Finn shifted in his chair and sighed, Poe looked up again. “Buddy. What’s up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Finn.”

Finn made a face at his book. “Back hurts,” he muttered.

“Do you need to go see a doctor, or—”

“No, it’s just—it’s going to rain soon, probably.”

“Oh.” Poe tapped his fingers on his keyboard. “You too, huh? If you want, I’ve got some—” He caught himself before he could finish the sentence. “Um. Never mind. Is there anything I can do?”

Finn shook his head. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Poe bit his lip. “Do you want, um—”

“No!” Finn snapped. “I’m _fine.”_

“Wasn’t going to offer medicine,” Poe said softly. “I was just going to say that I’m not a pro, but I’ve had enough massages by now to get the basic idea. So if you want, I can try that. If you want. Might help a bit. But—I’ll back off. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

Finn rubbed a finger along the spine of his book. When he looked up at Poe again, the light caught his eyes like a hurricane lamp. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’d love that.”

 

 

 

“So, um.” Poe waved a hand at the bed. “Shirt or no shirt?”

Finn shrugged. “Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No, man. Your massage. Your call.”

Finn’s eyes caught Poe’s dark and serious. “There’s a scar,” he said.

“I know,” Poe said quietly.

Finn took a deep breath. “I think shirtless would work better. If you’re okay with—”

“Akindele,” Poe said, just to see the way Finn’s face lit up at the name. “Am I okay with seeing you shirtless? I’ll give you three guesses.” He waved a hand at the bed with a wicked grin. “There’s a clean towel folded under the bathroom sink, let me get some oil, and I’ll be back in a sec.”

Google told him that olive oil was perfectly decent for massages, though not as ideal as fancier oils. But it was what Poe had on hand, so it would have to do. He grabbed a bottle and headed back to his bedroom.

When he returned, Finn was stretched out on a towel on his bed, eyes closed, arms folded beneath his head. Poe approached slowly, already realizing _shit this was such a bad idea._ Finn’s ass rose in a sweet curve, outlined in dark denim that did very little to obscure— _no okay deep breath stop ogling—but he’s my boyfriend, isn’t ogling part of the deal?—no, you motherfucker, get your head out of your pants, you’re giving him a massage because his back hurts—_

“Poe.” Finn opened his eyes. “The hell are you thinking about?”

“Your ass,” Poe said, unable to think of a lie.

“Really,” Finn said, with a little smirk. Poe set the oil down on the nightstand and sat beside him on the bed, relieved that he didn't seem mad.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—I don’t know. Ogle you. Or—”

“Dameron,” Finn laughed. “Isn’t that the point of this game?”

“What? No! Your back hurts. I just wanted to—to help. If I could.”

Finn looked at him for a moment. “Poe,” he said, rolled onto his side, and touched Poe’s arm. “You’re sweet. Really sweet. You’re also allowed to look at my ass, if you want to. It’s only fair.”

“What do you mean, only fair? You—” Poe blinked. “Oh.”

Finn reached up to grab the back of Poe’s neck and tugged him down into a kiss. “You’re the _sweetest._ Come on. You can’t tell me no one’s ever admired your ass before.”

“Not like you do,” Poe said dazedly, and kissed him again.

 

 

 

Poe warmed the oil in his hands and carefully slicked it over Finn’s back. The scar slashed up just beside Finn’s spine, raised and puckered. Small keloid spurs jutted out to either side like static, pale against the dark amber of Finn’s skin. Poe spent a moment just tracing beside its length with one finger. Finn craned his neck to see Poe’s face.

“Glad you survived,” Poe said quietly. He started in on Finn’s shoulders, trying to remember what his various masseuses and masseurs over the years had told him. He always asked them to talk about what they were doing to distract him, which worked…sometimes. When it didn't, he got dressed as soon as the panic attack eased, left a big tip, and escaped.

Finn grunted softly as Poe’s thumb caught on a knot near the scar. “Sorry,” Poe murmured. He massaged around it and into it, kneading the tight muscles of Finn’s back until they relaxed beneath his touch. Finn’s skin was warm and soft beneath his hands, scattered with smaller scars from unknown assailants.

Poe worked down along the line of Finn’s scar, one hand on either side of it, careful not to press too hard. He could do this all day, he really could. All week, maybe. Retire from activism and become Finn’s personal masseur. Just stay here, forever, caught in the circuit: Finn’s body, Poe’s hands, Finn’s steady breath, Poe’s pounding heart, Finn’s contented murmurs.

Finn sighed as Poe’s hands eased the tension.

“You keep sighing like that,” Poe said, “and I may need to cut this massage short and take a quick break.”

“Really.” Finn cracked one eye open and looked back at Poe.

“Really.” Poe moved down to Finn’s lower back, just below the scar. There was some faint fresh scent to his skin, like some soap Poe had never smelled before—or maybe it was just Finn, who groaned and flopped his head back down to the towel.

Poe swallowed, desperate for a distraction from the heat of Finn’s back beneath his hands. “Is this working?” he asked.

“Mmmph. What? Oh. Yeah. It is. Oh, god.” Finn sighed again as Poe worked out another knot just above his waistband. “Works any better,” he mumbled, “I might fall asleep.”

“Feel free,” Poe said. “Nowhere we need to go today.” He rested a hand on the small of Finn’s back.

“But then where would you sleep?” Finn blinked up at Poe.

 _I’m not going to make it,_ Poe realized. _You. You’re—you’re just—_ “I,” Poe said, with no fucking clue how he planned to finish the sentence.

Finn rolled onto his side and reached up to him with a soft smile. “Come down here and cuddle with me.”

“But—your back. Shouldn’t—are you—is that good? Did I miss anything? I can keep going if you want—”

“You’re not tired?” Finn laughed. “You’ve been working for—forever, I don’t know, at least half an hour, probably longer. I don’t remember exactly when you started.”

“No shit.” Poe looked at the clock on his nightstand. “Seriously?”

“I mean, if you want to keep going, I won’t object. Feels amazing.”

“Yeah?” Poe flicked Finn’s arm. “Am I hired, then?”

“Anytime,” Finn said with feeling. “Oh, god.”

“I’m glad.” Poe grinned at him. “Feel free to call me up, anytime.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.” Finn hesitated, eyes disarmingly intent on Poe’s. “Do you want me to do the same for you? Shirt on, I assume. Or blanket, or whatever you want.”

Poe stared down at him. “Um,” he said.

“Or just cuddle,” Finn hurried on. “Or anything. Whatever. Thank you, is what I’m trying to say. Thank you. It doesn’t hurt anymore. And it always hurts, every time the world thinks about raining. Once the rain starts, I’m fine. But before, oh man.”

“Yeah,” Poe snorted. “Me too.”

“So. I just wanted to put the offer out there. Whenever you want to call it in, or never. And that’s the last I’ll say of it.”

Poe looked at his hands. “I need to go wash off the oil. You want to pop in the shower and rinse off?”

“Sure,” Finn said quietly. He sat up and stretched a little.

Poe hesitated in the doorway. “And, um,” he said, not looking at Finn. “Thank you. I may take you up on that. Someday.”

“Anytime,” Finn said with a smile in his voice, and headed into the bathroom.

 

 

 

“I get panic attacks,” Poe said.

Finn whirled to face him, shirt still sticking to his half-damp skin.

Poe stood in the doorway of his room, shoulders hunched, fingers hooked into his belt loops. “At least once out of five, maybe six times I get a massage,” he continued. “They’re prescribed, I have to. I hope it’ll be easier right now, with clothes on. But, um. I just—wanted to warn you.”

“Okay,” Finn said, not sure what to make of that.   

“That was, um.” Poe’s knuckles whitened. “That was a yes. If you’re still—”

“I’m still,” Finn said cautiously. “But only if—”

“I want to try. Your hands—” Poe cracked a smile. “You know, I dreamt about your hands once. Uh. Shit. Um—”

“What was I doing with my hands?” Finn cut in before Poe could backtrack.

“Dangerous territory. My pants are already tight enough.” Poe’s smile broadened. “So are yours, I think.”

“They are,” Finn said faintly. “You’re sure you want to try this.”

“Yes.” Poe swallowed hard.

“And if you get an attack—”

“Then we stop and I breathe. Same as what I wrote in my instruction manual.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Okay.” Poe stared at his feet. “So, um.”

“So let’s do this,” Finn said, and waited for Poe’s eyes to rise to his again.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I can—yeah. Okay. Let’s do this.” Poe walked over to the bed, shoved the blanket aside, and slid in beneath the sheet, fully clothed.

“And tell me _before_ you need to stop,” Finn added. “As early as you can. We can always take a break and come back to it later.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good.” Finn stepped closer and ran a hand over Poe’s brow, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. Poe closed his eyes. Finn ran his hands through Poe’s curls.

“Talk to me,” Poe whispered.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

“Have I ever told you my favorite poem?” Finn set his hands on Poe’s shoulderblades.

Poe flinched, then deliberately relaxed. “What is it?” he asked.

“The Desiderata. Or at least, it’s one of my favorites, I’ve got many. Still I Rise, Invictus, There Was An Old Man From Nantucket…”

Poe cackled.

Finn grinned and started to knead the tension out of Poe’s shoulders. “I memorized it a few years ago,” he continued. “And I was thinking of it again on the walk here—I don’t know why, maybe because the sidewalks were so crowded today.” Poe hummed in pleasure as Finn worked out a knot beneath his shoulder blade.

“‘Go placidly amid the noise and haste,’” Finn murmured, “‘and remember what peace there may be in silence.’” He recited the poem, soft and sure, as he worked his way slowly down Poe’s back. Line by line, Poe’s brow smoothed, leaving his face years younger. Finn moved back up to Poe’s neck and rubbed his thumbs in carefully, watching the occasional flutter of Poe’s eyelids to guide his work. “‘With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,’” Finn finished at last, “‘it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.’”

“I think Mamá had a print of that in her office,” Pow mumbled into the pillow. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you.”

Finn shrugged. “It’s not really a poem, I don’t know. But I find it comforting, sometimes. Like—it’s a plan for life, you know? If you can follow that, or most of it, or something like it, you’re probably going to be an okay person.”

“Do you worry about that?” Poe looked up at Finn beneath sleepy lashes.

Finn smiled down at him. “What’s your favorite poem?” he asked.

“You’re an okay person.” Poe frowned. “A good one. A really good one.” He worked his hand out from beneath the sheet and grabbed Finn’s wrist. “I promise you,” he said, river-brown eyes intent on Finn’s.

Finn worked one-handed on Poe’s upper arm, other hand still caught in Poe’s grip. He smoothed Poe’s collar back up when it started to slip down, traced across Poe’s back, and started working on Poe’s other arm. “I have a lot to make up for,” he said at last.

“None of that was your fault,” Poe growled.

“Yeah.”

“Finn.”

Finn stopped and looked down at Poe. “I’m working on believing that,” he said. “Ok?”

“Okay,” Poe said, and dropped his hand. But the furrow was back in his brow, notched as tightly as a book laid out flat on the table, waiting for its reader to return.

Finn worked out another knot in Poe’s shoulders, then moved down his back again. “Your favorite poem,” he said.

Poe groaned as Finn found another knot in his back. Finn stopped, startled. “Yes, no, you’re good, that was good,” Poe mumbled. “Ugh, thank you, you’re amazing.”

Finn laughed and dug deeper, working the knot with the pads of his thumbs until it started to ease.

“i thank You God for most this amazing,” Poe offered at last. “By e.e. cummings. That’s one of my favorites.”

“Not sure I’ve heard that one. But I love some of his other poems. Recite it for me?”

“Hmm,” Poe sighed as Finn reached the small of his back, just above the waistband of his jeans. “‘i thank You God for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes.” He stopped and closed his eyes again as Finn kneaded the tight muscles of his lower back.

“Go on,” Finn murmured.

Poe took a deep breath. “‘(i who have died am alive again today,’” he rasped. “‘and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth).’” He recited the rest of the poem in halting breaths, line by line, hands clenching a handful of sheets.

When he finished, Finn smoothed a hand over his hair and sat beside him. “How was that?” he asked. “Did I miss anything?”

“That,” Poe said, and stopped. “You.” Finn twined his fingers in Poe’s thick curls and combed out the tangles. Poe closed his eyes. _“Thank_ you,” he murmured at last. “Doesn’t hurt anymore. My back, I mean. You’re a miracle. You know that, right? A miracle and a wonder.”

“Flatterer.”

“Truth.” Poe scooted back to give Finn room to sit properly, then nestled into Finn’s thigh. “Come cuddle with me,” he said. He flailed for a moment, trying to throw the sheet off, then slid back on the bed and opened his arms to Finn with a crooked grin.

Finn laughed, crawled in beside him, and wrapped an arm over Poe’s waist. Poe clasped Finn’s other hand between his own. “You did it,” Finn said. “The massage.”

Poe was silent for a while. “Yeah,” he said at last. “I did, huh.”

“Was it okay?”

“Yeah?” Poe nodded, nodded again. “Yeah. It really was.” He rolled to face Finn, eyes intent on his. “I trust you, buddy. I meant it. You’re a good man.” Finn snorted. Poe’s smile slanted to the side. “Meant it about your ass, too,” he added.

Finn kissed Poe’s nose. “So did I,” he said.

“Really.” Poe’s eyes glinted with sudden mischief.

“Really.” Finn cupped Poe’s cheek and kissed him. Eyes closed, forehead pressed to Poe’s, arms tight around Poe’s waist, he added softly, “And I’m glad you’re alive again.”

“Thank you,” Poe said, nearly too quiet to hear. “I’m glad you are, too.”

“I’m trying to believe it, all right? That it’s—not my fault. I’m getting there.”

Poe cupped his cheek. “You can take all the time you need, buddy,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Finn leaned into Poe’s touch.

“Yeah,” Poe said with absolute confidence.

Finn laughed and relaxed against the warm lines of Poe’s body. “Flatterer,” he said again.

“Truth,” Poe said, and kissed him.


	6. everything i have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for references to child soldiers and PTSD symptoms, including nightmares, panic attacks, and intrusive thoughts.

**Poe:** Why is it so cold today?! Are you still down to go biking?

**Finn:** [bicep emoji]

**Poe:** That…is certainly one of your more handsome features, yes. But. Biking?

**Finn:** Ha. Trying to say I’m tough. Tougher than the weather?

Um. Never mind. Anyway. I’m still game if you are! We’ll warm up, yeah?

**Poe:** [laughing emoji]

You’re going to be biking circles around me, aren’t you.

**Finn:** Want me to give you a hand up the steeper hills, old man?

**Poe:** Old man. Old man?!

Just for that, I’m going to dunk you in the river.

**Finn:** You’ll have to catch me first.

 

Poe flipped his kickstand down in the park and waited for Finn to meet him there. A moment before Finn arrived, the quiet of Poe’s thoughts spiked with a sudden vision: Finn in bike shorts.

_Shit,_ Poe thought dazedly. _I’m doomed._

Fortunately, Finn arrived only a few moments later, dressed in a leaf-green t-shirt and a pair of loose sport pants. The miracle of his thighs was still there, of course, but at least Poe’s own pants weren’t suddenly far too tight.

“Hey, buddy.” Poe met Finn in a quick kiss. “You ready to go?”

“You ready to get trashed?” Finn smirked.

“You know—” Poe shook his head— “you seem so sweet, and then—”

Finn kicked on ahead with a whoop. “Come and get me!” he shouted over his shoulder, swerving down the narrow park lane.

Poe swung onto his own bike, flipped the kickstand up, and raced after him, grinning from ear to ear.

 

 

 

After a few miles, the road flattened to a small state route, curving between farms and forests. Eventually, it wound around a hill, rising high enough to get a view of the distant mountains, the waving-grass fields below, and the green snaking curve of the river.

Poe’s eyes flicked back and forth between the view and the road. The view took his breath away, as always. The expanse of open air, the free range to just fly out over the field, soaring, a few ailerons, then an inside loop, maybe a barrel roll or two, just for fun—

_God,_ he missed flying. Like nothing else in the world.

“Here!” Poe shouted. “To the right!”

Finn swerved accordingly, as did Poe, a few moments later. The path down to the lake was narrow and deeply rutted, making for more of an obstacle course than an easy weekend ride. Poe concentrated on weaving around the rocks and branches that dotted the path, losing himself in the tight focus of trail biking.

Finn was equally quiet, and clearly making good use of his rearview mirror—cracked as it was—because every time he started pulling ahead, he slowed a few moments later to let Poe catch up. Poe wasn't doing badly, by any means, but…well. He didn't mind being the slower of the two. Not when it was Finn he was following.

Soon enough, they were soaring around the long curve out of the forest, hugging the edge of the open field. A red-winged blackbird exploded up from the tall grasses and flashed its colors. The sun was surprisingly warm out here, despite the chill in the air. Or maybe it was just the thrill of riding—his breath and his legs and his body all in tandem. The rush of the river was faintly audible over the bump and scrape of their tires over the gravel in the path.

“Want to stop at the river?” Poe called.

“Sure!” Finn shouted back.

Poe pointed down the slope. “Down here!”

Finn turned just in time to whir down the narrow path, one hand on the brake, body braced for impact. Poe followed as slowly as he could over the ever-larger rocks. He’d fallen here once, a couple of years ago. Not fun. Probably would be smarter to get off the bike and walk it down, but…well. He liked to think he had a few good qualities left, but he’d be the first to admit that common sense wasn't one of them.

Soon they were at the bottom, easing out over the sandy beach. Poe dismounted, leaned his bike against a tree, unclipped his helmet, and set it down. Finn did the same, back streaked with sweat, chest heaving.

“What did you think of the trail?” Poe asked.

“I love it! Can’t believe I never heard about it before. Four years here, and I could have been swimming every day.”

“I mean—” Poe cocked a brow toward the river. “It’s too cold to really swim here. Except for July and August, maybe.”

Finn shrugged. “Well. I can at least try to wade a bit.” He kicked off his shoes and socks and walked down to the shore, stretching each muscle. Poe followed, enjoying the soft scratch of sand beneath his feet and waiting for— _yup._ Finn shouted and hopped out the moment his feet touched the water. He made a face at Poe. “You weren’t kidding, huh?”

“Nope.” Poe sauntered up next to him, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Better when you get used to it, though. I mean, your feet go numb pretty quickly, and then it doesn’t really matter. Right?” He waded straight in, not waiting for an answer.

Finn hesitated. Poe waded quickly forward, heart beating loud in his temples. A moment—two—three—

With a whoop, Finn ran straight into the water, eyes shut, teeth bared. Poe stumbled back as the frigid water splashed over him. Finn stumbled to a halt as soon as he got in up to his thighs. “Fuck,” he gasped, eyes wide. “That’s.”

Poe laughed, reached out to him. “Cold, huh?”

“Fuck,” Finn agreed. “Oh, fuck.”

“Well, you did it. And I didn’t even have to push you in.”

“I did,” Finn agreed. “Oh, fuck. I really did. And it was worth every second. But. Now. I’m going to dry off, yeah? Unless you plan to join me?”

Poe’s stomach lurched—half-pleased, half-dreading—when Finn’s eyes flitted across his torso, lingering in the breadth of his shoulders and the tight fit of his shirt. “Nah,” he said, casual as he could. “Some of us have common sense.”

“Just for that—” Finn splashed him.

Poe jumped back. “Don’t you even think about it.” He cocked his head back towards the beach. “Anyway, I’ve lost track of my toes, which is pleasant, but also kinda weird. Want to go back to the warm and dry beach?”

Finn nodded solemnly. “A very wise decision, oh god of common sense.”

“Asshole.” Poe grinned and waded out after him.

Just as Finn stepped out onto the relative warmth of the beach, the quiet of their section of the river was interrupted by the ever-increasing din of an approaching young family. A little girl burst out onto the shore first, running pell-mell for the water. Just before she made it, however, her bowtied shoe caught on a small rock. She fell down to the sand in a tumble of bright yellow skirts.

Finn was there before Poe even realized what had happened. “Hey there,” Finn murmured, kneeling by the little girl’s side. He held out a hand to help her back up. “What happened?”

“I fell.” The girl stared up at him, face scrunched up in anger.

“Oh no!” Finn sat back on his heels. “What did you do that for?”

“That rock.” The girl pointed at it and scowled. “It tripped me.”

“That’s rude. Do you want me to get it out of here? So it doesn’t trip any other nice kids?”

The girl stared at him suspiciously for a moment. “Can you do that?”

“Yup,” Finn said. The family spilled out from the path, running eagerly and walking sedately down to the shore. Poe nodded at the parents and smiled. They nodded back.

When Poe looked back down at Finn’s sweet smile, the way his head tilted to listen to the girl, he had to remind himself to breathe.

Finn picked up the rock, grinning down at the girl’s wide-eyed stare. “You watching?” he asked her. The dinosaur clips in her hair quivered with the force of her nod. Finn stood, cocked his arm behind him, and hurled the rock as far as he could. It arced out over the river and crashed down into the water, sending a tumble of ripples back to the shore.

“I want to do that,” the girl said.

“I can teach you.”

“We should really get going,” the girl’s mother broke in reluctantly. “I’m sorry. We have to meet Shahida and the others down by the bridge, remember?”

“Of course!” If Poe had blinked, he’d have missed the momentary pang of disappointment that crossed Finn’s face before his grin settled back into place. He knelt back down to the girl’s level. “Well, then. You can’t be late, yeah? It was really nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Iris.” The girl stuck her hand up towards Finn. “What’s yours?”

Finn shook it. “Nice to meet you, Iris. My name—” Poe wondered if the girl’s mother caught the sudden glinting edge to Finn’s sweet smile— “is Fiyinfoluwa Akindele.” Finn said it at full speed, fluid and rolling. “Can you say that?”

“No,” Iris said, frowning up at him.

“Nah? Hmm. I bet you can do it. Here. I’ll try again.” Finn repeated his name, a few syllables at a time, waiting for Iris to repeat it back to him. When Iris got it right at last—ok, maybe not quite perfect, but good enough—Finn beamed down at her. “Excellent work, Iris.” He held out his hand for a high five. “You can also just call me Finn,” he added.

“Finn.” Iris tried out the name, squinted at Finn’s hand, aimed carefully, and high-fived him right back. “I like you,” she said.

“I like you too, Iris. Try not to trip on any more rocks, yeah?”

Iris’ brow furrowed as she pondered this. “I will try,” she said at last.

“That’s all I can ask,” Finn told her, lips twitching.

She stared up at him—giggled, suddenly, face transformed with a burst of light—whirled away, took her mother’s hand, and pulled her down the beach after the rest of their family. As they headed off, the mother turned back and waved at them. “Thank you, Finn,” she called.

“You’re welcome,” he said. The family walked on down the beach, kicking sand and throwing sticks at each other and pointing at particularly impressive trees on the opposite bank. All too soon, they disappeared around a bend in the river, headed on towards the bridge.

Finn stared after them with a twist of naked longing on his face.

Poe bit his lip, unsure what to say. “I didn’t know that was your real name,” he tried at last. “Do you want me to call you Fiyinfoluwa instead of Finn?”

Finn’s brow pinched in thought. “I hated it at first,” he said. “When I came here, no one could pronounce my real name. Most of them didn’t even bother to try. So I started going by Finn instead, just to make things easier. But then…” He trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Then it became my name here. Fiyin—that’s who I was there. I mean, at least it’s not the number—no one will fucking dare to call me that, ever again.”

“Number?” Poe asked, eyes wide.

“The commanders gave us numbers.” Finn waved a hand in furious dismissal. “Called us that, instead of names. Sometimes the others would call me that too. But Fiyin was my name, my real name. I’m—” Finn swallowed hard. “I’m pretty sure that’s the name my parents gave me. Slip—my best friend—called me that, and some of the others. But…everything I’ve built here, the person I am, that’s all Finn. It’s _me_ now. Fiyinfoluwa is what my parents gave me—I’m always going to keep that. But Finn is—is—is who I _choose_ to be.”

“I get that,” Poe said quietly. “So. You’d like me to keep calling you Finn?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Okay. I will. And—if you change your mind someday, or choose a different name, tell me, okay?”

“I will,” Finn nodded. “Thank you. For asking, and for listening.”

“Of course, buddy,” Poe said in surprise. “It’s your name. I want to call you what you want to be called.”

Finn nodded. His eyes strayed back to the curve of the river, where the family had disappeared.

Poe followed his gaze. “She really liked you,” he said.

Finn nodded again.

“You’re really good with kids,” Poe pressed on. “You know that?”

“I watch families.” Finn rubbed his thumb across his fingers, over and over again. “What the parents do. How their kids respond. What’s good to do, and not good.”

Poe blinked hard.

“I watch them a lot,” Finn said.

“You’ll have a family of your own someday.” Poe’s throat ached. “I swear to you, Finn.”

Finn looked at him. Poe took Finn’s hand. Finn looked down at their twined fingers in silence.

“Come take a nap with me?” Poe asked.

Finn nodded.

Poe sat down on the shore and pulled Finn down next to him. He stretched out his legs, lay back, and relaxed onto the sand. Finn stretched out next to him, body stiff and awkward on the sand. Poe nudged Finn closer. “Come?” he said, very soft.

Finn shifted toward Poe and turned over onto his stomach. Rested his head on Poe’s chest, spread a hand over Poe’s arm. Poe eased his other arm around Finn’s shoulders and laid his hand over the soft tufts of Finn’s hair. Their bodies eased together as though they were made to lie just like this, quiet and still on the riverbank.

Poe let his head fall back to the sand and closed his eyes against the bright sun. He saw Finn, wide-eyed and silent, clutching a gun taller than he was. Struggling across the desert, alone and friendless, protecting his own small self from the world. Looking up from his books to watch a family across the coffeeshop with hungry eyes.

Poe saw himself, arms outstretched, grinning at a child as she biked from Finn’s arms to his.

Poe blinked, cleared his throat. Opened his eyes again. Looked down at the curve of Finn’s head, rising above his chest, cradled beneath his hand. He could feel Finn’s head rise and fall with each breath he took.

Poe stroked Finn’s hair with his thumb and took a deep breath. _Everything you ever needed,_ he thought. _I will give you. Everything you ever wanted. Everything I have._

When Poe closed his eyes again, the sun played fierce and hot across his closed lids. The warmth of Finn’s body aligned with his, safe on the sun-drenched sand.

 

 

 

Poe screamed, shoulder on fire. Pleaded with the torturers to stop, stop, please, make it stop—

He jerked awake with Finn’s elbow ramming him in the chest, sat straight up, knocking Finn to the ground, and stared wildly around the quiet beach, utterly disoriented.

Finn scrambled up to sit on the sand, face dripping with sweat, eyes wide and panicky. “What—where—” There was a tight, nauseated pinch to his lips. He covered his eyes for a moment, breath harsh and strangled in his chest.

Poe pulled his knees up to his chest, lowered his head to them, and tried to catch his breath.

“Oh.” Finn’s voice was rough. “You had a nightmare.”

Poe nodded, still dazed. _Oh. Wait_. He picked his head up again. “You—” He reached out to Finn, took his hand, and rested his thumb on the rapid trigger of Finn’s pulse. “Had one too, huh.”

Finn nodded. His hand shook in Poe’s. “I,” he said. “I woke up. Because you were. Screaming.”

Poe frowned at him. “What? _I_ woke up because _you_ were thrashing around.”

“Oh.” Finn swallowed and rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Sorry.”

“No, man.” Poe cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Finn blinked. “Oh,” he said at last. “Well. In that case. You’re welcome.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, catching their breath, coming back to earth. Slowly but surely, Poe’s face cracked into a smile. Finn’s lips twitched up into a crooked smirk. Poe’s grin broadened to match it. And then Finn was laughing, deep in his chest, head tipped back, and Poe lost it too. Finn fell forward onto him, tackled him down to the sand, and tried to kiss him, but they were both laughing so hard that their mouths kept slipping off each other.

“What a pair,” Poe gasped.  

“Only need—two legs—between us—” Finn collapsed onto Poe’s chest. “To walk home.” His laughter vibrated against Poe’s skin. “Leaning on each other.”

“Damn right.” Poe nuzzled into Finn’s neck, pressed open-smile kisses to his skin. “I’d be happy to wake you up anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

“Me too,” Finn murmured. His hand found Poe’s shoulder, soft and sure. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh wait, before you go back to your apartment! I almost forgot—” Poe fished in his pocket and brought out a small velvet bag.

For a moment Finn was sure it was—no. Okay. It was a small, solid weight in his palm as he untied the knot, fished out—a smooth, flat, rounded shape, pink laced with circles of white.

Finn cocked his head at Poe, confused.

“It’s a worry stone. You hold it, and rub your thumb over the indent in the middle. It’s rhodochrosite. They said it’s good for healing the past, or a hard childhood. For feeling safe, and whole, and loved. Bringing yourself together again. I just—” Poe bit his lip. “I noticed that you—you rub your thumb over your fingers, a lot. Or over whatever you’re holding. When you’re nervous, or upset. I saw this, and I—I thought of you.”

Finn stared at Poe.

Poe shifted his feet. “I know it’s pink,” he said, ducking his head. “Probably not your favorite color. And it’s not like it’ll actually do anything, or magically make it all go away, but when they said what rhodochrosite was for, I just—”

“It’s perfect, Poe,” Finn said softly. “It’s _perfect.”_ He shook his head. “Thank you. This—” He looked down at the small stone in his hand, gleaming in the sunlight that striped through the blinds. “Thank you,” he said again. “I—”

Poe waited.

Finn’s thumb ran over the stone, back and forth, as though testing it out. He sat slowly down on the couch and stared at the stone in his hand.

Poe sat next to him.

Finn turned the stone over and over between his fingers. Arcing, winding lines of white burst out across its surface in concentric rings. The rest was a deep, soulful pink that reminded him of the commander’s bride in her gloriously bright aso-oke.

“There was a smooth patch on the barrel of my gun,” Finn said.

Poe looked at Finn.

“It was right where my fingers were, when I carried it.”

Poe nodded.

“I touched it all the time. Ran my thumb over it, like this. Before I went to sleep.”

There was a deep furrow in Poe’s brow.

“It was really smooth,” Finn said.

Poe opened one hand toward Finn. Finn took it. Kept the stone in his other hand.

“It was really smooth,” Finn said again.

Poe wrapped him into a tight hug. Finn stared down Poe’s back. Sunlight winked back at him from the stone. His eyes hurt. His throat hurt worse.

“It’s okay,” Poe murmured. “I’m glad you had it. That it helped.” His shoulders lifted, fell. “You take comfort where you can. You have to. It’s okay.”

Finn was silent. A series of cars hummed louder, then softer, as they passed Poe’s building. A burst of teenage chatter rose and fell as they walked by.

“There was a spider,” Poe rasped at last. “I talked to it.”

Finn swallowed, cleared his throat. “A spider.”

“Big one.” Poe traced its outline on Finn’s back. “Four inches across, maybe? Scary fucker.”

“I would have smashed it with my sandal.”

Poe laughed. “Yeah. Well. So would I, if I could have. But I couldn’t. And—I’m glad.” He leaned back and took Finn’s shoulders in his hands. “I think it kept me sane,” he said, very soft.

Finn held Poe’s eyes. His jaw was tight. The late-afternoon sun highlighted a soft arc over Poe’s hair. Another car eased down the street, blasting bright summer pop up through Poe’s windows until it pulled around the corner again. In its absence, Poe’s apartment was almost quiet enough to hear the rustle of the sycamore’s leaves outside his window.

“I miss it,” Finn said, very soft.

“So do I,” Poe whispered. He pulled Finn into a hug, fierce and strong. “So do I.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So this is when I tell embarrassing stories about Poe, right?” Kes asked.

Poe winced. “No, Dad, it’s okay, that’s really not necessary—”

“I,” Kes announced loftily, “have been waiting for this moment for years.”

“Yeah,” Poe sighed. “I know. And you’ve been rehearsing at every possible opportunity.”

Finn looked from one to the other. “You really love each other, huh.”

Poe grinned at Finn, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Want to referee? Once this guy gets going—”

“Hush, you.” Kes waved a hand at Poe, cheeks reddening. “I take it back. I’ll be good.”

“Nah, go ahead.” Poe leaned back in his chair. “Have your fun.”

“Teasing,” Kes explained to Finn, “well, nice teasing, at least—is an art form and an act of love.”

“I know,” Finn said.

Kes blinked.

_I’m not a Martian,_ Finn thought, rubbing his thumb over the smooth tines of his fork to ground himself. “Anyway,” he added. “This is good. I need more blackmail against Poe. If there’s anything that’s not common knowledge yet.”

“Plenty.” Poe shook his head in mock dismay. “I’ve done just about every dumb thing that can be done.”

“Really? You seem like such a reasonable person.” Finn kept his face perfectly straight for a good five seconds, enjoying Poe’s wide-eyed stare.

Kes threw his head back in a full-throated laugh. “Remind me again, how long have you two been dating?”

Poe checked his watchless wrist. “Five hours?”

“Four and a half,” Finn corrected. “You always round up.”

“True.” Poe nodded. “It’s a character flaw. I'll have to work on it.”

“He’s so much better than he used to be,” Kes assured Finn earnestly. “He even believes that time is a real thing now. That took a few years. When he was—seven, maybe?”

“Six and a half,” Poe corrected with a sigh. “You always round up.”

Finn snorted, ribs already aching with laughter as Kes started his tale.

Half an hour later—or maybe twenty-five minutes?—Finn reached for Poe’s hand and rubbed his knuckles, wishing he could smooth out the tense lines around Poe’s eyes. Late meals were bad news, that was clearly laid out in Poe’s instruction manual. And okay, fine, holding Poe’s hand was also partly for Finn’s benefit. Late meals didn’t quite terrify him the way they did Poe, but he couldn’t ignore the way his own heart rate had risen along with his hunger.

Poe folded his fingers around Finn’s with a small smile. “Tell Dad about your research on coltan. He’s always happy to have another reason to hate phones.”

“I have a phone!” Kes protested.

“He even uses it once a month or so, whether he needs it or not.” Poe grinned at them both and slid out of his chair. “I’m going to step out for a sec.”

Finn watched Poe leave, trying to gauge whether this was a panic-prevention attempt or a way to panic in private. Either way, though, Poe could handle it. With a silent wish for Poe’s safety, Finn turned back to Kes.

“He’ll be all right,” Kes said softly.

“I know,” Finn said.

Kes blinked. “Yes,” he said at last. “Well. I suppose you deal with this a lot.”

“Yeah,” Finn shrugged. “Every so often. We’ve discussed what to do when one of us isn’t doing well. He’s good at taking care of himself. And he gives me space to do the same.”

Kes nodded, pursed his lips, nodded again. “Poe told you what I said?” he asked suddenly. “About you two.”

Finn’s hand tightened on his fork. “Yeah,” he said. “He did. A few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Kes looked up at Finn and held his gaze. “I apologized to Poe on both of your behalf, at the time, but I wanted to apologize to your face as well. What I said was ignorant, and hurtful. I’m sorry. I’m incredibly glad that you both found each other. And it’s been wonderful to meet you at last. I wish you all the best.”

Finn blinked at Kes, utterly nonplussed. “Ah,” he said at last. “Thank you.”

Kes nodded.

“I can see why Poe loves you,” Finn said softly.

Kes flushed. “Likewise,” he said.

“Oh—no—we’re not—I mean, we’re just—”

Kes smiled softly at Finn. “Mijo. You’re both—”

“Hey.” Poe slid back into his seat with an awkward smile for Finn and Kes. His curls were slightly askew, so: panic attack prevention, most likely.

“Hey yourself.” Finn said, and held out his hand. Poe took it. Finn kissed Poe’s knuckles, only realizing afterward that he’d done so in front of Kes without even thinking about it. “Um,” he said, momentarily flustered.

“Did I miss anything?” Poe asked.

Kes looked at Finn.

“We agreed to go out for ice cream after this,” Finn said, just to see Poe’s face crinkle up into a smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Poe was awake—why was he awake? He blinked into the darkness. There it was again—a shaky inhale, just to his left.

“Finn?” Poe whispered, barely louder than a breath.

Finn flinched, then twisted to look at Poe. “What? I—I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“You’re okay, buddy. What’s going on?”

Finn just blinked at him, eyes wide in the dim light. Poe held out a hand. Finn looked at it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Poe asked softly.

Finn shuddered.

Poe scooted a little closer, trying not to crowd Finn, and opened his arms. After a moment’s hesitation, Finn slid into Poe’s arms. Buried his face in Poe’s shoulder. Took one shaky breath, then another, and another.

Poe wrapped Finn tightly into his arms and closed his eyes. “I’ve got you, buddy. You’re okay. I promise.”

Finn whispered something, voice muffled in Poe’s sleep t-shirt.

“What?”

“They won’t stop.” Finn’s voice cracked. “They just won’t stop. They keep coming, and coming, and I can’t—I can’t—”

“Breathe, buddy. Breathe.” Poe stroked Finn’s back in time with his breaths. “You’re safe. They’re not here, they’re far away, you’re here, with me, you’re safe, you’re—”

“No,” Finn rasped. “The th-thoughts. In-tr-trusive thoughts. They won’t stop. They keep—I can’t—I can’t make them stop, I can’t—I can’t—they—”

“Oh, buddy.” Poe curled closer around Finn, as though he could possibly protect Finn from the interior of Finn’s own mind. “I’m so sorry.”

_Instruction manual,_ Poe thought frantically. _What does it say in Finn’s instruction manual for this?_ He could almost see the page, a neat printout, placid Times New Roman words spelling out the scars on Finn’s brain.

“Let them roll off,” Poe whispered at last. “They’re not true. You’re safe. You’re okay. I promise you.” Finn had never actually told him what the intrusive thoughts tended to focus on, but it didn’t really matter. Thoughts were thoughts, and unwanted thoughts would just get worse if he tried to fight them.

Finn trembled in Poe’s arms, breath scraping raggedly in his throat.

Poe blinked his stinging eyes and held on even tighter, rocking them slightly in place. “Is there anything I can do?” he whispered at last, furious at his own impotence. If he could just do one quick flyover in the dark corners of Finn’s brain, strafe the thoughts that woke Finn in the middle of the night, let him sleep safe and sound like he should always be able to—

“Tell me a story?” Finn’s words were nearly inaudible.

“A—a story? Um. Okay. I can do that. Uh—what kind of story?”

“Anything.” Finn shifted a little, snuggling closer into Poe’s arms. “Something—something good.”

“Hmm.” Poe let go of Finn just long enough to hike the blanket up over their shoulders, tuck it in a bit, then settled his arm around Finn’s waist again. “Did I ever tell you about Jess and the porcupine that crawled under our porch?”

“No,” Finn said, voice tipping up into something vaguely resembling a smile.

“Well,” Poe grinned, “now you’ll have a little blackmail against Jess, just in case.”

As Poe told Finn the story, Finn’s breaths slowly steadied out again, back rising and falling evenly beneath Poe’s arm.

“Thank you,” Finn murmured at last. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re having a bad night. You feeling a little better now?”

Finn nodded against Poe’s shoulder, then eased back a little, cheeks glinting slightly in the silver light from the blinds.

Poe brushed the few remaining tears from Finn’s cheeks with his thumb. “Another story?” he asked. “Or, I don’t know, can I get you something? Water, or—”

“I’m ready to sleep.” Finn’s face creased into a tired half-smile. “Thank you. I’ll probably have crazy dreams of a miniature you running after a porcupine, which sounds pretty good to me right now.”

“Yeah? Well. I hope that’s a good dream. Sorry. Maybe I should have picked a better story.”

“It was perfect. It made me laugh and forget the world for a moment. That’s all a good story can ever do, really.”

“Yeah?” Poe grinned at Finn, inordinately pleased. “Well. I’m glad, buddy. You wake me up next time, okay? Plenty more stories where that came from.”

“Okay.” Finn settled back onto his side of the bed with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re not going to wake me up next time, are you.”

“Nope.”

“Buddy.” Poe nudged Finn’s calf with his toe. “Please. I mean it. I don’t mind, at all. I’m glad to help.”

Finn looked at Poe for a moment, streetlight furrowing in the lines of his brow—then surged forward and kissed Poe, hands cupped around Poe’s face.

Poe kissed him back, breathless from the sweetness of Finn’s kisses.

Finn pulled back for air at last and just looked at Poe for a moment, mouth trembling. “Thank you,” he said again. “I’m happy to do the same, okay? I—I just—thank you. Thank you. So much.”

“Of course, buddy.” Poe ran a hand down Finn’s arm.

Finn kissed Poe once more for good measure, then slid back to his side of the bed. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Poe yawned, and curled up beneath the covers.

A car slid down the street; its lights traced up the slope of Finn’s nose and down again, over his lips, beneath the curve of his jaw. Poe wanted to follow the light with his fingers, brush Finn’s tears away for good, snuggle closer. Stay there for the night. For longer, maybe. Until Finn could sleep soundly, safe and happy and warm in Poe’s arms.

Another car’s lights skipped across Finn’s sleep-smooth brow, arced lightly over his eyebrows, lit the tips of his eyelashes for one shining moment.

_You’re so beautiful,_ Poe thought, but that wasn’t really what he meant.


	7. sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the fic finally earns its explicit rating! 
> 
> N.B.: All sex acts in this fic, as in all of my fics, will be enthusiastically consensual. However, keep in mind that consensual doesn't mean everything goes perfectly. 
> 
> Warning for a near-panic attack, discussions about consent, references to scars, and a brief reference to drugs.

“Okay, my turn to ask a question. Um…” Finn squinted down at the blank replacement card atop the UNO pile, thinking for a moment.

“Just so you know,” Poe drawled. “I’ve got another blank card, so if you ask about something horribly embarrassing, you’re getting that right back at you in a moment.”

Finn raised a pair of very unimpressed brows. “You’ll still be losing.”

“That’s because of that damned _pair_ , how the hell did you have a _pair_ of plus-four cards? So not fair.”

“It’s okay, you can say it. I’m talented.”

“Asshole,” Poe muttered, losing the fight against a grin.

“Okay, Dameron,” Finn cackled. “I see how it is. Want me to go easy on you? I’ll go easy on you. Here’s my question. How did you learn how to fly?”

“See, I knew you could ask a reasonable and not horribly embarrassing question! I’m so proud of you. I first learned to fly on—” Poe dropped his prodigious pile of cards onto the table and crossed to the ancient desktop computer in the corner.

He dug among the piles of papers for a moment, then emerged victorious: “Ha! Flight simulator. It’s a computer game. I mean, there was a shitton of studying and practicing with real-life simulators and actual planes, of course, but I cut my teeth on this in college, before we were allowed near any of that. Just to get a taste of what it was like.”

“And you have it? Here? Now?” Finn leaned forward onto the kitchen table, chin propped on his hands.

“Yeah!” Poe grinned at him. “So. You know. I can pretend to fly.”

Finn’s brow folded. “Do you miss it?”

Poe leaned back against the desk. “Um.” He looked at his hands. “Well. Yeah.”

“In hindsight,” Finn said. He set down his cards and walked over to Poe. “This was a really terrible idea. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you about flying—”

“Nah, man. It’s okay.” Poe took Finn’s hand and played with his fingers, measuring their hands against each other. “Look, flying’s glorious. Of course I miss it, I’ll always miss it. Nothing like it. But I don’t miss—” _getting shot down—_ “combat. Or never getting enough sleep. Or DADT.” He shrugged.

“Did you ever think about being a pilot—like, for an airline, or something?”

Poe snorted. “Yeah. Or a flight instructor, or something. But, um. PTSD kinda put an end to holding down a regular, full-time job, so.” He shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, very soft.

“No, look.” Poe’s hands tightened on Finn’s. “Flying was a beautiful part of my life. For a really long time.”

“Your first love,” Finn said, very soft.

Poe laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, it was. But. So. Anyway. I don’t want to give it up now, you know? The sim did freak me out, for a while. But I worked on it. Was a nice thing to start working on, at least. Safe and fun and not nearly as, um. Stressful. As working on other things.”

Compared to torture and a year in hell, one crash didn't even rate. It had taken him four months to get back to playing the sim without panicking; four years to even _start_ to work on looking at the scars.

“Want to try it?” Poe asked.

Finn blinked up at him, startled. “What? Wait. Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Fuck yeah. I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” Poe beamed at Finn. “Well. You’re in for the ride of your life.” He slotted the disk into the computer and started up the program. “Come, sit here.” He patted the desk chair.

Finn settled in and drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to fly.”

“Yeah? Well, you came to the right place. All right, buddy. Here we go. You put your hands on the joystick, just like this—” Poe wrapped Finn’s hands around the joystick and shifted Finn’s fingers to the right buttons and triggers. “Fire up a simulation, and hope the computer doesn’t futz out, which it has been known to do, fair warning.”

“Noted.”

“And then you get to pick a plane…here, let’s pick a nice slow jet to make it a little easier—”

“What?” Finn protested. “If I’m flying, I want to fly! What’s your favorite plane?”

Poe cut his eyes at Finn. “Hmm…ok, fine. Here, this is my favorite. The Extra 300S.”

“I’m not sure I like the way you’re smiling right now.”

“Just remember, buddy, you asked for it.”

Poe guided Finn through takeoff, crouching beside the desk chair, one hand over Finn’s on the joystick. When he was fully up in the air, Poe explained the dashboard to him, which instruments he should keep an eye on, how the joystick controlled the pitch and bank and speed.

And then he let go of the joystick, stepped back behind Finn, and settled in for an entertaining evening.

For the first five seconds, Finn did just fine, which was honestly far better than Poe was expecting. The Extra 300S was a…tricky mistress, one might say. Sure enough, the moment Finn decided to bank sightly left in order to get a better view of the lake below, the plane whirled in that direction, nearly pitching straight down to the ground. “Whoa whoa whoa, what the hell—”

“Easy, buddy. Take her up again, nope, okay, trees are great too, up a bit—there you go, almost level, doing just fine.”

“Shit.” Finn shook his head. “I didn’t—I just—why is it so sensitive?”

“What? The joystick is sensitive? Just, uh, tighten your grip a bit—”

“You are the _worst,”_ Finn groaned. He leaned in toward the screen, dared to twitch the plane ever so slightly right, corrected for her wild swing, and brought her out level again.

“There! That was perfect! Congratulations.” Poe patted him on the shoulder.

Finn flinched, startled out of his concentration.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Poe said, but it was too late. The move had already traveled down through Finn’s hand to send the plane spiraling downward uncontrollably.

“Shit shit shit, no—” Finn bit his lip, struggling to right the plane again. It took each minute twitch of his fingers far too seriously, twisting up and down in a bizarre mockery of an aeronautics show.

“You can quit out of this and go try a jet instead,” Poe offered, regretting having started Finn off with the Extra. “Or any other plane, really, this is the only nutcase among them.”

“Then why do you like it?” Finn gasped, finally leveling the plane out again, slow and easy.

“It’s fun? Most like a fighter jet. Also, the hardest by far to control, so it, um. Requires the most concentration. I like that.”

Finn focused on flying straight and true. “I get that,” he said at last. “Like interval sprints. I usually run long, but Rey dared me to run some intervals with her once and I got kinda hooked. Can’t think about anything but breathing and running.”

“Yeah.” Poe leaned his elbows on the back of Finn’s chair and propped his chin in his hands. “I’ve tried that too, sometimes. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, entirely focused on keeping the plane level. For a few minutes of precarious calm, he flew over a dense forest, spiked with the occasional shining river. “I’m getting pretty good at this,” he murmured at last, almost to himself. A smile spread across his face, bright and beautiful.

“Damn right you are.” Poe leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Finn’s neck. Finn jolted, startled, and lost control of the plane again. “Oh no,” Poe purred. “Did you jerk your joystick around a little bit?”

“Fuck you,” Finn panted. His body echoed each move of the joystick as he fought to get the plane back on a reasonable flight path. And, um, well, actually, Poe’s joystick was having a little difficulty too. “There,” Finn growled at last. “Sensitive, my ass.”

“No fair!” Poe protested. “That one was on purpose.”

“Oh, and yours wasn’t?” Finn smirked. “How’s your joystick doing back there, buddy? I heard you step back from the chair. Need a little more space now?”

“You are the _worst_.”

Finn laughed, eyes still tracking his flight. “That’s _my_ line, Dameron.”

Poe watched Finn fly for another few minutes, as he glided easily over endless rolling fields. There was a certain set to Finn’s lips, a focused light in his eyes, that…was really, _really_ doing things for Poe. Finn lost control again when trying to turn towards a mountain, but with a few teeth-clenched twists, he was back upright and level.

Poe reached around him and pressed a few keys to stop the simulator.

Finn looked back at him. “You okay?”

Poe bit his lip. “Do you want to, um—” He stopped.

Finn grinned up at him. “You know that’s your tell, right?”

Poe blinked. “What?”

“Whatever comes after that ‘um’ is probably going to be something I like.”

“What? No. Shit. Really?”

Finn smirked at him.

“Dammit,” Poe sighed. “Huh. Then maybe I should say…clean my apartment?”

Finn squinted around the room. “What is there even left to clean? It’s spotless.”

“Hmm.” Poe shrugged. “Well, in that case, you leave me no choice.”

“Oh?” Finn reached up and ruffled through Poe’s hair.

Poe closed his eyes, inordinately pleased. “Do you want to, um—no, dammit, I did it again. Fuck! Okay. Here goes.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to make out. On the couch. With me. Now.”

Finn’s smile had more candlepower than a stadium floodlight, Poe found himself thinking, mildly dazed. ”I’d love to,” Finn said softly. He traced Poe’s arm down to his hand and kissed his fingers. “Lead the way?”

 

 

 

They tumbled down onto the couch in a tangle of limbs, hands and socks and jeans that were really getting uncomfortably tight right now. “Flying gets you going, huh?” Finn teased. “Or was it the joystick?”

“‘Sensitive ass,’” Poe muttered. “Fucking hell.”

“You could—” Finn stilled beside Poe, suddenly serious. “Do things. With said ass. If you want to.”

Poe’s eyes widened. “Um,” he said, then stopped.

“You wouldn’t have to take any of your clothes off,” Finn hastened to add. “And it’s totally fine if you don’t want to. Making out is good too. Really good. I won’t mention it again, I—”

“Can I suck your dick?” Poe said, because if you’re going to fly a Pugachev’s cobra, you have to stop thinking and just do it.

Finn’s mouth opened, then closed. Poe beamed at him and took the opportunity to riffle his fingers through the soft tufts of Finn’s hair.

“You’re—you want—yeah,” Finn rasped. “Fuck yeah. But. Um. You’re sure? Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Poe said, because it was the goddamn truth. He just felt—comfortable. Right. Safe. He was home. It was broad daylight. Everything was just—normal. Easy. Okay. He trusted Finn. He liked Finn. Finally not only his head, but his body, too, felt safe around Finn. “I just—I want to. If you do.”

Finn’s smile slid into a sly smirk. “You do get off on flying, huh?”

Poe ducked his head. ”Maybe.” But that really wasn’t what he wanted to talk about now, not ten years of focusing on one love to help him ignore the rest. He wanted to talk about this, and them, and the prospect of breaking a lifelong drought.

Lord help him.

“How do you want to do this?” Finn asked, fingers carding gently through Poe’s hair.

“I—I don’t know? It’s up to you.”

“You’re part of this too, man.” Finn looked around. “Huh. You’ve got a nice carpet here, and plenty of pillows. So—on your knees, by the couch, would probably be the most comfortable for you.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” On his knees. Before Finn. He had never thought much before about the submission of—of sucking—imagined it, yeah, of course, plenty of times, but like—here he was. With Finn.

“Is that okay with you?” Finn’s brow creased. “Plenty of other positions, things we can—”

“No! Yeah, that’s fine. That’s great.”

“Poe.” Finn grabbed Poe’s chin. “The moment it’s not okay, you’re going to stop, right?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Right,” Poe said.

“ _Please,”_ Finn said, and it wasn't often that his eyes were hard like that, intent on Poe’s.

“ _Yes,”_ Poe said, and cupped Finn’s cheek. “Yes. I will.” He grabbed a pillow, but Finn was already setting one on the ground between his feet, so Poe threw his at Finn instead to make him laugh. Laughing, that was the key, they did better together when they’re laughing, everything was okay when they were laughing. Right. Poe knelt on the pillow, licked his lips, and took a deep breath.

He felt every bit as awkward as he’d feared, short and clunky and caged in by Finn’s knees, Finn’s legs, and—ok, actually, this was a pretty nice view, wasn't it? Finn’s thighs.

Um.

Yes.

Poe took a moment to just run his hands over Finn’s thighs, hard muscle beneath the smooth stretch of denim. He swallowed. “Talk,” he said.

“What? Oh. Okay. Uh—about what?”

“Anything. Whatever.”

“Okay.” The edge of the couch wrinkled beneath Finn’s hands. “Um. You’re beautiful.”

Poe’s eyes flashed up to Finn’s.

“Don’t look at me like that, man, you know I’m not just saying that.”

“Huh.” Poe fought back a smile. “Well. I do. I guess I do.” He ran his hand over the obvious bulge in Finn’s jeans. “This looks pretty uncomfortable.” Finn made a small noise in his throat. Poe liked that noise, he decided.

Poe _really_ liked that noise.

Poe made it his life’s mission to make Finn make that noise more often.

 _Much_ more often.

He flicked open the button of Finn’s jeans with his thumb and slid the zipper down. Finn was wearing black boxer briefs underneath, the kind that stretched close around his skin with a muted elastic shine and really didn’t leave that much to the imagination. Finn shifted in his seat with a quiet hitch of his breath.

Poe slipped a finger beneath the waistband of Finn’s boxers and slid it down over Finn’s dick. “You’re not talking,” he said.

“I don’t have enough blood in my brain to be talking right now,” Finn croaked.

“No,” Poe mused. “You really don’t.” Finn’s cock popped free at last, already leaking, curving very slightly upwards, ready for Poe to put his mouth on it and— “Oh, shit,” Poe said.

“What?” Finn’s voice wavered. “I—is it—”

“Oh, no no no, shit, I’m sorry, no, that’s not what I—your dick is beautiful. And you know goddamn fucking well I’m not I’m just saying that, so don’t even joke. No, I just realized, I’m a fucking idiot, I completely forgot to get a condom, or something—”

“Oh, god,” Finn laughed. “Shit, Dameron. Way to give me a heart attack. I’ve got some.” He digs one out of his pocket. “And, I mean, I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure I’m all set? Got tested back in—oh, February or something. And I’ve never done anything unprotected. But, uh—”

“Better safe than sorry,” Poe supplied. “My dad will kill me if I get anything, oh god, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Well.” Finn smiled at him. “Let’s try to avoid that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Poe took the condom and ripped it open, definitely not thinking about the fact that he had only ever applied one to a banana before. For, uh. Practice. “Oh,” he said, definitely not stalling or anything. “I’m, uh. Negative, too. I think. I haven’t been tested in a few years, though. I mean. Not that I’ve done anything in that time, obviously. But still. I’ll go get tested. This week. Just in case.” They’d tested him in the hospital, when he’d first arrived, and at a checkup a few months later. He’d submitted in silence, not even wanting to think about the possibility.

Well. Anyway. Back to business. Right? Great.

Poe briefly considered trying to apply the condom with his mouth à la porn star, but discarded it quickly. He was not, by any means, a porn star, and there would not be another take of this scene. He rolled the condom down Finn’s cock with his hands instead, wishing they’d stop shaking.

“You really are beautiful,” Finn said softly. Poe hoped it wasn't an attempt to calm him down. Finn touched the edge of Poe’s jaw with a gentle finger and traced down to his lips.

Poe leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. But— “You’re trying to distract me,” he said, “but I have a beautiful dick in front of me.” _Cobra,_ he thought, _Pugachev’s cobra, just leap—_

Poe licked his lips, leaned in, and took Finn’s dick into his mouth. The condom tasted strange, but it did nothing to mute the heated weight of Finn’s cock on his tongue. He licked along the bottom, wondering for a frantic second what the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Porn just showed a quick deepthroat, in and out until done. Where was the closeup anatomical diagram of what his tongue was supposed to be doing now?

Oh, hand! He could use his hand, too! Where the fuck was his brain?

Poe belatedly brought one hand up, spat in his palm, and wrapped his fingers around the base of Finn’s cock to get the rest. Maybe someday he’d try to deepthroat, but not today. Too risky. Choking and gagging would really ruin the moment. Too many years since he last practiced, hopeful and young. So he’d just suck instead—

Finn made that noise again.

 _Yes._ Poe’s smile stretched over Finn’s cock. He laughed softly. Maybe the vibrations traveled through his mouth? Finn shifted in place and bracketed Poe even more closely with his feet. Poe bobbed his head and hand at the same pace, gripping as tight as he would normally like for himself and hoping like hell it would work for Finn too.

When he sucked even harder, Finn’s hands came up into Poe’s hair for a moment, then fell back. “Can I—” Finn choked.

In response, Poe patted around on Finn’s thigh to find his hand and placed it in his hair. _But not too tight!_ he thought with a moment of panic, regretting having given Finn permission. _Don’t pull, don’t control—_ Poe pulled off, ready to say—

Finn’s fingers twined through Poe’s hair as gently as everything else Finn ever did.

Poe mouthed back over Finn’s cock with a sigh of relief. Right. This was why he was doing this now, with Finn, after so many years of lonely shower wanks. Because Finn was a good man. Caring. Trustworthy. Gentle.

Because he really, really, _really_ liked Finn.

The thought went straight to Poe’s groin like he was fifteen again. This was _right._ He and Finn were _right._ This was exactly where he wanted to be in the world: kneeling before Finn, Finn’s hands in his hair, Finn’s legs framing his shoulders, Finn’s breath hitching above him, Finn’s cock in his mouth, his own cock straining against his pants.

Finn groaned above him. Poe realized he was still sucking hard and jerking Finn with his other hand. His jaw ached distantly, but it ranked far below the things he wanted to pay attention to right now. He wanted this to go on forever, forever and ever, as long as they possibly could— “Oh, fuck,” Finn groaned. “Poe, I’m—”

Poe pulled off, sat back, and beamed up at Finn.

Finn just stared at him, eyes wide, chest heaving. “What,” he said. “What are you—”

“I don’t want this to end,” Poe said.

Finn’s face cracked into a beautiful smile. “I,” he said, and swallowed. He traced the lines of Poe’s face with trembling hands. “I’ll try. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. But we can do this. Again. Whenever you want.”

Poe grabbed the back of Finn’s neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss. Finn kissed him back with a muffled groan. “I want that,” Poe panted, when he finally broke off. “I want you.” _With me. Forever. Making those noises. Smiling like that. Laughing at my jokes. Holding my hand. I WANT you._

“I want you too,” Finn murmured hoarsely, hands warm on Poe’s cheeks.

“Good,” Poe laughed. He settled back onto his haunches as Finn leaned back against the couch, fingers still twining through Poe’s hair. Poe breathed in, licked his lips, and took Finn’s dick into his mouth again. Finn’s breath hitched. His hands shook in Poe’s hair. Poe blinked dizzily, high on the rush of feeling Finn come undone beneath his hands.

“Oh, fuck—” Finn choked, and jerked in Poe’s mouth. Poe slid back to take just the head of Finn’s cock in his mouth and sucked Finn off through his orgasm. The condom filled, hot and sudden and glorious and dirty and Poe shot back down to earth, kneeling on the floor of his living room with another man’s dick in his mouth, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—

“Fuck,” Finn said. “That was—oh god—you’re a— _wait.”_ He let go of Poe’s hair and leaned forward unsteadily. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Poe said, and rubbed his jaw.

Finn cursed under his breath. “What—what happened? I’m sorry. What happened?”

“What?” Poe’s eyes flicked up to his, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You okay? You look a little weird.”

“I look beautiful,” Poe corrected.

“Poe.”

“Fuck.” Poe rubbed his forehead.

The condom started to slip off Finn’s softening dick. Finn’s hands were shaking hard enough that it nearly slipped through his hands when he moved to catch it. He tied it into a knot and scrunched it up in his fist. “Poe,” he said. “Please. Talk to me. You were enjoying it and then—I don’t know what changed. What happened?”

“I’m _fine.”_ Poe grabbed the spent condom from Finn, braced one hand on the couch, stretched to his feet with a quiet groan, and disappeared to find a trashcan.

When he stepped back into the living room, Finn was slumped on the couch, head buried in his hands.

“I don’t know what happened,” Poe said.

Finn’s eyes flicked up. “I’m _sorry,”_ he said. He rose and stepped towards Poe, then hesitated. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Poe asked. “You’re fine, buddy. I was the one who asked. I wanted it. I really did. And I liked it. A lot. I just—I don’t know. At the end there. I just got weirded out for a moment. It’s fine.”

“What do you mean, ‘weirded out?’”

“Like I just—I just felt like—like just suddenly—” Poe stared at the floor for a moment, cheeks flushed, jaw tight. “You’re right. I’m thirty-fucking-two and I’ve never sucked a guy’s dick before and I just—just realized that for a moment, what I was doing, and it was just weird, so weird, but—” His eyes flicked back up to Finn’s. “It’s not ‘a guy.’ It’s _you._ I wanted to do this because it’s _you._ So it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You’re—you’re sure? I just—you seemed—”

“I wanted to do this,” Poe said, steadier now, and stepped closer. “Because I like you. I trust you. I want to make you feel good. I think you did, maybe, at least until I flipped?” He offered Finn a tiny, private smile.

“I did.” Finn reached out a hand. Poe took it. “I really did. But—did you?”

Poe’s smile blossomed slowly, lips still buzzing from the blow job. Finn’s hand grounded him back in reality, safe and anchored. “Buddy,” Poe said. “I want to do that again at the next possible opportunity.”

“Oh. Oh. That’s—oh, Poe. I’m glad you’re okay.” Finn folded Poe into a tight hug. “I don’t—I _never_ want to pressure you. Into _anything._ You know that, right? I—”

“Buddy.” Poe leaned in and kissed him. “I know that, man. You’re good. I’ve never felt pressured by you.”

“Okay.” Finn relaxed slightly. “Well. Then. I just—I mean, I just wanted to say that, like. I’d love to return the favor, whenever you want me to, or never. I just wanted to put that out there.”

“Noted.”

“Good,” Finn laughed, turning back to the couch. “So—”

“Now?” Poe asked.

Finn stumbled over his own feet as he whirled back towards Poe. “What?”

Poe steadied Finn. “You heard me,” he said, eyes on the rug.

Finn lifted Poe’s chin with a finger and stared at him. “You’re—” His throat caught. “Sure?”

Poe narrowed his eyes at Finn. “Course I’m sure.”

“Poe—”

“Finn.” Poe leaned in and kissed him. “I’m sure.”

“Well. Ah. I’d love to. What do you want me to do?”

“The same as I did?”

Finn’s smile trembled outward. “Sounds good to me.”

 

 

 

So that’s how they ended up here, Poe on the couch, Finn kneeling between his legs. Poe unzipped his fly with hands that were trying desperately not to shake. _Dameron. Focus. You’re fine._ He wasn’t hard—how the fuck was he not hard? When had that happened and how had he not noticed? He had been  so hard earlier, when he was blowing Finn. He wanted this so badly. But it was okay, he’d just—

Finn stroked his thigh. “Poe,” he said quietly. “Are you—”

“I’m _sure,_ Finn, how many—” Poe stopped himself from snapping at Finn any more.

“Okay,” Finn said gently. “Okay, you’re okay. I believe you.” He waited a moment for Poe to lean back against the back of the couch.

Poe yanked his shirt down even further, as low as he could over his still-soft dick, and tried to tuck it in on the sides to make sure it didn't ride up and expose his scars. He wanted this, he wanted Finn, how many times had he imagined this by now, eyes closed, hand jerking fast, back arching in ecstasy.

Finn took Poe’s cock in his hand and _fuck_ , that felt good, but weird, and what if he moved the wrong way and his shirt rode up, fucking shit he was thirty-two and he couldn’t fucking get it up for his fucking boyfriend _fucking shit fuck goddammit—_

Poe was standing before he’ even realized, yanking his pants back up, scrubbing at his hair, not looking at Finn. “I’m just,” he said. “I just—”

He carefully closed the bathroom door without a slam—not quite sure how he had gotten there—leaned over the sink, and buried his head in his hands. _Fucking fucking fucking shit was_ all he could think, oh god his cock was still soft and his hands were shaking and his chest was tight and his heart was racing no no NO he wasn't going to have a panic attack, not here, not now, it was only threatening, this was NOT going to happen.

Poe set his eyes on the little plastic clock leaning up against the back of the sink, placed here for just this purpose, and breathed in time with its tiny blue hands. _In. Two. Three. Four. Out. Two. Three. Four._

_Breathe, motherfucker. Breathe._

It took forever for his heart to slow. When it finally did, his hands were still shaking, body worn out, chest hollow and cold. He was not quite as beaten down as he would be after a full panic attack, but he wasn’t okay, he was so fucking not okay. His ears still burned with humiliation. Could he teleport Finn home? He’d talk to him again…after a few days, maybe a month or two. Once he’d calmed down enough to not be as embarrassed by it as he was now.

He couldn’t settle into his body.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the scars.

He wanted this so fucking badly.

He couldn’t do this.

Poe leaned his head against the cold mirror and closed his eyes for a long time.

 _Mamá,_ he thought, tired and lost. _Mamá. What do I do?_

 _Same as you always do,_ she told him, and hugged him tightly. _Trust your instincts. Trust yourself. Trust the people you love._

Poe opened the bathroom door.

 

 

 

Finn sprang to attention when the door opened. He’d been waiting halfway down the hall, compulsively rubbing his fingers over his jeans and listening for sounds of serious distress. So far, nothing audible, but he was still strung out on edge, confused and worried and heartbroken for Poe.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from Finn’s when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, shoulders slumped, hands jammed into his pockets.

“Hey,” Finn said softly.

“Hey,” Poe said. “I’m—” His shoulders jerked higher towards his ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that would happen.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to have sex, Poe,” Finn started.

“I _do_ want to!” Poe’s voice cracked. “I—” He punched the wall and swallowed hard.

Finn took a deep breath. “I’ve heard,” he said carefully, “that meds can—”

“No.” Poe shook his head. “I mean, yes, they can, but that’s never happened for me before. Not—I mean. Not on my own. I don’t know what happened, fuck, I—” Poe stopped and rubbed his forehead. Silence fell between them, defeated and alone.

“I’m sorry,” Finn murmured.

Poe shrugged, cheeks flushed with humiliation.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I had sex?” Finn asked.

“Um. No?” Poe leaned his forehead against the wall.  

“And I don’t plan to—although I can if you want, I guess. Basically, anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. So—it’s okay, yeah? Just took—you know, practice, and—”

“Look, I’m fine, okay?” Poe interrupted. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I don’t need a pep talk—”

“Please look at me,” Finn said. He waited. At last Poe turned, leaned back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and met Finn’s eyes. “That wasn’t a pep talk,” Finn said quietly, holding Poe’s gaze. “That was a roundabout and possibly stupid way of saying that this isn’t an audition. No matter how this goes, I’m pretty sure I will want to try this with you again.”

Poe blinked. “Oh,” he said at last. “That—that wasn’t stupid. That was—nice. Really nice.” He paused. “You’re really nice,” he said, very quietly.

Finn’s mouth quirked. “I try. But really, Poe. I mean it. We don’t have to do anything, now or ever. Not unless you really, _really_ want to.”

“I do,” Poe rasped, and stopped.

Finn recognized the tremble in his lips from so many times of watching him refuse to cry. _It’s okay,_ he thought. _It’s okay to cry. Please._ Is this what other people felt when he tried so hard not to cry? It was painful as fuck and he—he just—he just wanted Poe to be okay, couldn’t the universe just help out for once—

“I do want to,” Poe managed at last, hoarse and halting.

Finn swallowed hard and pulled himself back together. “Then what happened?”

“I don’t know, fuck, I—I don’t know. I was worried about my—and it’s the first time anyone’s ever—ever—touched me, and—” Poe stopped and closed his eyes. “Fuck. I’m too fucking old for this. I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“‘Too fucking old,’” Finn repeated, with a note of pure steel in his voice. Poe looked up at him, startled. Finn braced his feet beneath his shoulders. “The fuck do you mean.”

“I just—I can’t—I should have—” Poe stopped. “Everyone I know has already had sex. I’m too old to start, fuck, I—”

“I was first given drugs when I was five years old,” Finn said, eyes intent on Poe’s. “I learned to read when I was sixteen. _Fuck timelines._ Bullshit. They’re all bullshit. You do what you need to do. When you need to do it. If there’s someone out there with a checklist of everything you need to do and every deadline you need to do it by, I’ve never met them. Maybe they’ve already given up on me. But fuck them, Poe. Fuck the timeline. You never wanted to have sex before. Never had someone. Right?”

Poe nodded mutely.

“But now you’re here. I’m here. Do you want to have sex? Is this the right time? Does it feel right to you?”

Poe stared at him, eyes dark and unreadable. “I think so?” he said at last, very quiet.

Finn shook his head. “Tell me again when you’re sure.”

“Who the fuck knows when that will be?” Poe threw his hands in the air, then sighed. “I’m sorry your timeline got fucked up.”

Finn shrugged. “That's how it is.”

“You’re still allowed to be hurt by it.”

“Yeah.” Finn rubbed his fingers over his jeans again. “Well.” He looked up at Poe again. “So are you.”

Poe nodded. Took a deep breath. Sighed. Looked at the floor. Scuffed a toe along a crack between the floorboards. “I’m so tired of this,” he whispered at last.

“Do you want me to go home?” Finn asked, throat aching. “Give you some time to think. Or—I don’t know—do you want me to leave—”

Poe’s eyes flew up to his, startled. “No!” He reached halfway towards Finn, then dropped his hand. “I—I just—” He shifted in place, as though his skin didn't fit him properly. “Can we—do you want to—”

Finn waited.

Poe leaned back against the wall, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. His curls flopped over his eyes, half-shadowed in the hallway lights. “I’d like to go back to the flight sim,” he said at last. “You don’t have to stay, you can—”

“I’ve got the whole evening. I’d love to stay. As long as you still want me to.”

Poe opened his eyes and looked at Finn.

Finn looked back, hoping his eyes could say everything he couldn’t.

At last Poe’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Good,” he said, and pushed off the wall. “Because I’d love to show off in front of my boyfriend.”

 

 

 

Showing off was the right phrase, indeed. Finn was proud of his own efforts to keep the plane level, despite its absurd oversensitivity. But watching Poe, all he could think was… _wow._

Poe ducked and darted and spun and banked and turned and plunged and soared. Finn’s heart was racing just watching him—half nauseous with the constant turns, half exhilarated at the freedom of virtual flight. Poe described each move as he did it, pointed out controls to watch for, explained the air currents and drag and pitch and attitude.

Finn soaked it in as fast as he could, distracted by the flash of light in Poe’s eyes at each new move he made, the way his body leaned into each move, the crease of concentration in his brow, the easy grip of his knuckles on the joystick. Before long, the haunted look was fading from Poe’s face, replaced with a bright, satisfied gleam.

Poe’s entire body moved differently when his hand was on the joystick, Finn realized. He was—loose, free, focused, present. _Powerful._ It was so beautiful.

“Ha!” Poe exulted, after leveling out from the tenth—Cuban Eight, he called it?—in a row. “Gotcha!” He pushed on upwards, rolling aileron after aileron. Finn had no idea by now how long it had been—maybe twenty minutes, maybe two hours. Did it matter? He’d stay here forever if he could, quite happily. Poe soared up toward the sun, higher, higher, higher—

The _flight simulator paused_ popup flashed on the screen.

Finn blinked.

Poe spun around in his chair to face Finn.

“Look,” Poe said softly, staring down at his hands. “I wanted it. I wanted it so much. But then I just—I just got weirded out, and I couldn’t figure out why. But I was thinking now, while I was flying—I told you, it’s good for that, um—I think my body wasn’t cooperating because—it’s smarter than I am? Sometimes? Because I—I _am_ nervous. I am. I got nervous because I started thinking about, like—oh god I’m old, and what the fuck am I doing, and will this be okay, and I was worried—”

Poe took a deep breath, then another, and clenched his hands into fists. “I was worried that my—my—that my shirt would ride up. And. And I don’t. I—”

Finn reached toward Poe.

Poe clasped Finn’s hands in his. “I,” he continued, hoarse. “I don’t like. People putting their hands on me. If I don’t trust—but I do trust you. A lot. And, um. I—I like you. A lot. And I want to. Have sex with you. If you still do. I _want_ this, I want this so badly, and I can _do_ this. With you. If you still—” He bit his lip.

“I still want to,” Finn said, brow furrowed. “But only if you’re really, really, _really,_ sure, Poe, there’s no rush—”

“I know. I know. And if it doesn’t work—”

Finn waited.

“If it doesn’t work,” Poe rasped. “Then we can table it and try again some other day. Is that okay?”

“That sounds _great.”_ Finn squeezed Poe’s hands.

“Okay.” Poe looked up with a tentative smile. “In that case. Can we, um. Take a break? Have dinner, or something. And then maybe, um. Maybe try to get back to it?”

Finn pressed a short, sweet kiss to Poe’s cheek. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Thank you.” Poe kissed him back. “You’re so fucking sweet to me. You know that?”

“I do.” Finn smiled at Poe. “And I know you can do this, if it’s something you want to do. Maybe now, maybe later. If you want to get there, you’ll find a way.”

Poe took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, overwhelmed by Finn’s quiet faith in him. “Yeah. I will.”

 

 

 

Poe packed up the leftovers of their takeout and stashed them in his fridge. When he turned around, Finn was already coming back into the kitchen with a handful of crumbs and a crumpled paper towel. Poe had no doubt that the table was as spotless as he’d ever need it to be, to feel safe. Finn rinsed off his hands, turned to Poe, and made a small noise of delight as Poe dipped him into a deep kiss.

“Thank you,” Poe whispered. “So much. Have I mentioned how sweet you are? Only five times today? Here’s the sixth: you are so fucking sweet to me.”

Finn shrugged. “It’s in your manual, no?” He leaned back against the counter and grinned at Poe. “Clean house, happy Poe.”

Poe snorted. He stepped up to Finn and boxed him in against the counter, hands on his hips. “This is true,” he said, with a smirk. “But still. I appreciate it.”

“You know what I was thinking about, though? While cleaning up the table.”

“Mmm?” Poe ran his hands down Finn’s biceps.

“You deliberately distracted me with the flight sim to get yourself out of losing at UNO.”

Poe grinned at him, low and broad. “Did I, now.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Poe asked innocently.

“I mean, so did the blowjob.”

“Touché.” Poe nodded in mock seriousness. “I’ll have to remember that as a distraction technique in the future.”

Finn shifted subtly beneath Poe.

“Really,” Poe said. His teeth flashed in a low, wicked grin. “Hmm.” _If we try this again,_ he thought. _And I can’t get hard. I will be humiliated. If it doesn’t work. If I can’t—if I can never have sex, if I can’t do this—I want it, fuck, I want it so badly—_

“Hey.” Finn reached up to cup Poe’s cheek. “It’s okay, man. Where’d you go?”

_I want to try. Please. I just want to try it again._

“Can we. Can you. Can I.” Poe bit his lip, hard. “Can we try again?” he rasped at last. “Slowly. With kissing first. Lots of kissing.”

Finn looked at Poe.

Poe looked at Finn. He ran a thumb over the furrows in Finn’s brow. “I don’t know if it will work,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I'll still want it. But right now, I do.” He took a deep breath. “I really do. Maybe it’s a risk. But it’s a risk I want to take.”

Finn nodded slowly.

“Do _you_ still want to?” Poe bit his lip.

Finn pulled Poe into a sweet kiss. “Dameron,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I—” He hesitated. “I never, _ever,_ want to rush you or push you into anything—”

“I know that,” Poe said patiently. “You’re okay, man.”

“Well. Good. Then, um.” Finn shrugged. “As long as we’re being honest here, I have really wanted to suck your dick ever since—well, okay, maybe not our _first_ date, but really soon after that.”

Poe stared at him, eyes wide. “Well,” he said at last, and cleared his throat. “Same here.”

“Yeah?” Finn said, with a glorious smile.

“Yeah,” Poe said, and kissed him.

 

 

 

Which was how Poe ended up on the couch again, pressed up chest-to-chest with Finn, lips humming, toes curling, hands spread across the muscled planes of Finn’s back. He was hard, Finn was hard, the friction and heat between them was overwhelming. They could—they could just—he wouldn’t have to take anything off, they could just—

Finn broke off for air for a moment and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, breathing hard. “Finn,” Poe rasped. “Please.”

Finn looked at him. “What?” he asked, dazed.

Poe leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Now,” he said. “Now, please.”

Finn struggled upright, straddled Poe’s hips, and clung to the back of the couch for balance. “Now what?” he asked.

 _“Asshole,”_ Poe said, with feeling.

Finn grinned and blew him a kiss. “Just for you, Dameron, I won’t make a joke about asses.”

“You just did,” Poe groaned, struggling upright to meet him.

Finn hoisted him up with a hand on each arm and _fuck yes_ Poe liked that, he really liked that.

“Can you,” Poe said. “I didn’t like. When you were kneeling. It didn’t feel right. You shouldn’t have to kneel for me.”

“What if I’m on the couch, between your legs?”

“I thought you said that’s less comfortable?”

Finn shrugged. “About the same. Especially on a couch this big, where I can just stretch out. I think it would be fine.”

“Well. Um. If you’re sure? Is there room for that?” Poe scooted up against the pillows on the arm of the couch. “You’re okay?” He spread his legs to make more room for Finn.

Finn slid onto his stomach between Poe’s legs, folded his arms across Poe’s thighs, rested his chin on his hands, and grinned up at Poe. “More than okay,” he said. “Pretty nice view from here.”

“Yeah?” Poe couldn't help grinning back. “I’m glad.”

It felt right, this time. Like Poe belonged exactly where he was, with Finn between his legs, both reclining on the couch, loose and easy.

“Wait,” Poe said. “Let me.” He undid his fly and pulled out his cock with hands that weren’t shaking nearly as badly this time.

 _Finn,_ he thought to himself. _This is Finn. I trust Finn. I like Finn. We’re good together._ As long as he could keep reminding the trolls in his brain that everything was actually okay, he should be okay. He tucked his shirt in carefully on both sides, fussed with it for a moment, then lay back against the pillows. “Shit!” he said, and jerked his head up again. “Condom! Oh.”

Finn laughed and flicked Poe’s thigh with the condom he must have magicked out of his pocket. “Way ahead of you, Dameron.”

“Like usual,” Poe sighed. “You—”

Finn rolled the condom down Poe’s dick with gentle, warm hands. Poe choked something that wasn’t quite a word. Finn looked up at him, concerned.

“Yes,” Poe said, at a loss for any more words. “Please. Yes.”

“You really are beautiful,” Finn said, eyes hot and dark on Poe’s. “You know that, right?”

He ran a finger down the tense muscles of Poe’s side, then down the crease in Poe’s jeans where his hip met his thigh. Poe’s leg twitched at that, overwound.

“Talk to me,” Finn said.

“Fuck,” Poe said.

Finn laughed softly. “Yeah?” He dragged a hand over Poe’s thigh, dipped into his boxers, and ran a finger over Poe’s balls.

 _“Fuck,”_ Poe said, with feeling. “You gonna stay there all day?”

“Might,” Finn nodded. “I just might. I really do like the view.” He braced his elbow on the couch and squinted down the length of Poe’s cock.

“Oh god.” Poe flopped his head back against the pillows. “You are such a tease. How did I not know you’d be a tease? I can’t take the wait.”

“No? Well. I’ll get a move on, then.” Finn mouthed gently over the tip of Poe’s aching cock. Poe made a small sound in his throat. Finn wrapped his free hand around the base of Poe’s cock, licked up the underside, settled his mouth over the head, and began to suck.

Which felt _so fucking good_ and also _so fucking weird_ and also _so fucking right._

Poe reached down and tangled his fingers with Finn’s free hand, hand shaking, heart pounding in his ears. He closed his eyes just for a moment to ground himself. Checked his shirt again, just to make sure—yes, solidly tucked, everything was okay. Couch beneath his body. Pillows beneath his head. Finn’s hand in his. Finn’s mouth on his cock, fuck, _really?_ Really.

For a long moment, Poe was terrified that nothing would happen, that the feel of Finn’s lips on his dick, sweet as it was, wouldn't be enough to—to—

Shirt. Couch. Pillows. Finn’s hand in his. Finn’s mouth on his cock. Just be. Just breathe. Just feel. Or try, at least. Poe watched Finn’s head bob up and down, clustered tufts of hair, graceful curl of ear, smooth curve of forehead. The silence was deafening. Just the shlick-shlick of Finn’s lips on his cock, the irregular puff of his breath, the pound of Poe’s heartbeat in his ears. His dick looked weird beneath a condom, he found himself thinking dazedly. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore a condom, just to practice rolling one one. To practice for this. For a guy’s—

No.

For _Finn’s_ mouth on his dick.

Finn, who he trusted. Finn, the sweetest man he’d ever met. Finn, who he really, _really_ liked, beyond anyone he’d ever met before.

Poe stroked the back of Finn’s hand. There was something building in that circuit, wet slide of lips and tight grip of hand and _yes harder harder just like that oh god please don’t stop—_

Finn licked up the underside of Poe’s cock again. Poe lost his breath entirely, overwhelmed with sensation.

Finn pulled off for a moment. “Poe. You with me?”

Poe tried to find a word, any word. “Yeah,” he rasped at last. “Fuck. Yeah. Yes. I am. Oh god.”

“Oh, good. Worried I might have lost you there.”

“No,” Poe croaked. “I’m still here. I’m just—you—your mouth—oh god.”   

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Poe nodded. “A miracle. A fucking—oh god. I don’t even have enough words for it.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Finn flashed him that gloriously sweet smirk of his, as though he knew—fuck, of course he knew—the way it sparked right along Poe’s spine, all the way down to his dick.

With a quiet laugh, low in his throat, Finn went down on Poe again, cheeks hollowing out, lips tight, mouth slick and hot and everything Poe had ever dreamed of—no, more than. He’d never dreamed of the round curve of Finn’s ass, or the gentle grip of his hand, or the soft puff of his breath on Poe’s dick, or the glint in his eyes, those eyes—he’d never dreamed—he’d never—he—oh—oh fuck—

With a startled cry, Poe came, back arched into Finn’s grip, hand tightening on Finn’s, legs shaking. Finn jacked him through it, fingers hot and tight around Poe’s cock. At last Poe closed his eyes and sank back into the couch, boneless and spent. He was just going to…lie here, yeah, that was okay, he’d just stay here for the next fifteen years.

Finn stroked his thigh. “Hey,” he said.

Poe blinked at him. “Hey.”

Finn bit his lip.

“Come here,” Poe said, because those were words, words were good, he remembered those words. He reached up to Finn.

Finn smiled down at him. “Hang on a sec,” he said. He removed the condom with careful hands, tied it off, and tucked Poe’s cock into his pants, keeping one hand on Poe’s stomach to make sure his shirt stayed down. Which was just so unbelievably  _Finn_ of him.

”Finn,” Poe rasped.

“Yeah?” Finn’s hands stilled on Poe’s hips.

“You’re—I— _thank_ you.”

Finn snorted. “Did you just thank me for sex, Dameron?”

“What?”

“You don’t thank someone for sex, man.”

“Why not?” Poe reached out to him. Finn took his hand. “You’ve been incredibly nice. The entire way through, for all of this, months now, you’re been the sweetest. And I’m just—I’m glad. And I want to thank you for it. So, thank you.”

“Well,” Finn smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll give you a pass this time. But really, though. It was a pleasure.”

“Good,” Poe yawned. “Because I want to do that again soon. Like, really soon.” He squinted down at his crotch. “Okay, not very soon. I’m a little too old for that. But still.”

Finn laughed. “Give me a moment, all right?” He left for a moment to get rid of the condom.

 

* * *

 

 

When Finn returned to the living room, Poe’s eyes were already closed. Finn paused for a moment in the doorway to just admire Poe, the way his dark hair fell across the bright red throw pillow, the lingering flush in his cheeks, the soft part to his lips, the way his shirt fell in gentle folds over the smooth planes of his chest. Poe blinked and looked around. Finn startled, embarrassed at having been caught staring.

Poe held out a hand. “Come here,” he said.

Finn stepped forward and let Poe pull him down to the couch. Their legs tangled together again, chest to chest and hips to hips and nose to nose. “Finn,” Poe croaked, with that glint in his eye like he was trying not to cry. _“Thank_ you. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Finn said softly. He traced the line of Poe’s cheek. “I’m glad it was okay.”

“Okay?” Poe shook his head. “More than okay, buddy. So much more than okay. I—” He blinked hard.

Finn’s lips still hummed with the pleasant post-blowjob buzz. He kissed Poe, then murmured: “I’m glad. So glad.”

“Me too.” Poe nuzzled beneath Finn’s jaw and pressed a kiss just below the slight rasp of Finn’s stubble. “We’re going to do that again soon, right?”

“Yes, please,” Finn laughed, and kissed Poe.

“Maybe with a little less freaking out, though.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe said.

Finn’s face heated. “I—” he stammered. “Sorry, I just—”

“Sweetheart,” Poe said again and cupped Finn’s face to his. Finn got lost in the sweet glint of Poe’s eyes. “I like that. A lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Poe said, and kissed Finn.

Finn tangled his fingers in Poe’s hair and drew him closer, finally able to relax. It was so confusing sometimes, trying to figure Poe out. Listening to everything he said and listening even harder to everything he didn't say. Remembering, above all, to just wait for him to figure it out.

But he’d done it, tonight. They both had. They’d talked, and they’d listened, and they’d worked it out. And it had been— _oh god._ It had been better than Finn had ever hoped.

Finn settled a hand on the small of Poe’s back, smoothed Poe’s shirt down far enough to keep him comfortable, and pulled him in close. Poe’s lips curved into a smile beneath Finn’s.

When they broke apart for air at last, Finn traced the line of Poe’s jaw with a gentle finger. “Sweetheart,” he said again, and smiled.

Poe’s eyes crinkled into starlines. “Buddy,” he said, and kissed Finn’s nose.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Poe:** So uh

I uh

I had another date with Finn yesterday and

uh

 **Jess:** yes, I am impressed at your ability to lose track of your words via text. take a deep breath and keep going, man, you can do it.

 **Poe:** You wanted to know

 **Jess:** HOLY SHIT YOU DID IT

YOU

YOU MARVELOUS MOTHERFUCKER YOU

YOU DID IT

I’M SO PROUD

OH GOD

wait shit did you actually?

 **Poe:** Yeah?

 **Jess:** that’s a question mark

 **Poe:** Yes. I did.

We did.

Please tell me you’re not going to demand details now

 **Jess:** HOLY SHIT YOU REALLY DID IT HOLY FUCKING MOLY YOU ARE AWESOME

how was it???

ok fine I guess I won’t demand details but um maybe at least like a 1-10 scale?

 **Poe:** Weirder than I had thought it would be.

But awesome. 10/10 best idea ever.

Glad I waited, tbh.

 **Jess:** ok no dude you do not get to spring this on me and then also learn how to use texting acronyms??? in the same day???

but I’m so glad it was awesome!!!

 **Poe:** He’s

 

Poe stared at his screen.

 

 **Poe:** He’s amazing, Jess. He was so nice about it, the entire time.

 **Jess:** dude

I am so proud of you

I’m crying a little over here

congratulations, man

fucking congrats

and congrats on the fucking!!!

 

* * *

 

 

“I thought we’d hold a party for you, Poe, to celebrate the good news!”

Poe blinked up from his laptop and stared up at Jess, aghast. “Good news,” he croaked.

“Yes!” She beamed down at him. “Come on!” She pulled him up out of his chair and dragged him toward the break room where Snap, Iolo, and Three P.O. were all waiting.

“Congratulations!” they all cheered. Even Three P.O. mustered up a smile that was neither peeved, piqued, or pissed-off.

“To yooooooooouuuu,” Snap continued with a brief operatic flourish.

Poe shut his eyes, cheeks flaming hot. “Guys,” he managed, not sure he’d ever been more embarrassed in his life. “Is this really necessary?”

“Look at the damn cake, dumbass,” Jess said, and shoved him forward.

Poe cracked an eye open to look at the cake. _Congrats on the Portland March!!!_ it said in giant green loopy letters, with peace symbols festooned all over it.

Poe looked at Jess.

Jess smiled at him in perfect innocence. “Congratulations!” she said again. “We’re so proud of you.”

“You are the _worst,”_ he whispered, and smiled at everyone else. “Thanks, guys! This is so nice of you!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey! I almost forgot!” Poe waved Finn into the kitchen. “Jess got me a cake to celebrate the march, and a couple of cupcakes so I could take some of the cake home because they finished the rest of it. Here, do you want one?”

“Never pass up a cupcake,” Finn said solemnly. He accepted the box from Poe with a grin and carefully slit the taped seal with his thumbnail.

Poe reached up for a pair of cups, then turned to the fridge to get the water pitcher— “Finn?” he asked. “You okay, buddy?”

Finn looked up from his untouched cupcake, eyes wide. “Um,” he said.

Poe blanched. “Shit.” He peered into the box. “Oh no.” He hastily broke his own open and stared down at it. “I’m going to kill her,” he moaned. “Oh god. I’m going to strangle her.” Poe reached for his phone.

Finn patted Poe’s back. “Take a deep breath and have your cupcake, man. They’re pretty.”

Poe looked at Finn.

Finn smiled and raised his cupcake to Poe. “She’s a good friend. And I don’t know about you, but I had a great time.”

“She is,” Poe sighed. “And so did I, oh fuck, I really did.” Poe touched his cupcake to Finn’s in a toast.

“Congrats!” Finn said, and shoved his cupcake at Poe’s mouth.

Poe spluttered through frosting and crumbs, eyes wide, then shoved his own onto Finn’s face. Finn wiped it off and took a real bite, grinning hugely. He could still read _Congrats on the Sex_ written backwards across Poe’s lips in glittery red frosting.

“Looks good on you,” Finn said, and kissed the frosting off Poe’s lips. Poe dropped his cupcake onto the counter, wrapped his arms around Finn, and kissed him right back.

 

 

 

 **Poe:** You are the absolute worst

But Finn’s telling me to thank you for the cupcakes so um thank you? I guess? I’m still going to strangle you the next time I see you so watch out.

 **Jess:** I like that guy. tell him he’s welcome!

and I can take you in any fight so don’t forget that.

weren’t they pretty???

 **Poe:** They were beautiful. You are devious.

 **Jess:** *bows*

you’re welcome, dude.

enjoy ;)


	8. can i try?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: references to being a child soldier and references to past violence, including towards children. Also, babies feature heavily in this chapter, in case that's an issue for anyone.

“Hello!” Tía Arianna greeted Poe and Finn with outstretched arms. They slipped in and doffed coats and boots, grateful for a respite from the biting air. The narrow mudroom opened out into a bright kitchen, raucous with laughter. The family surged around them as they entered, clapping Poe’s back, shaking Finn’s hand, plying them with food, and volleying question after question at both of them.

At last they settled into the living room, onto couches scattered with mismatched throw pillows and warm woolen throws. Finn sat next to Poe and just looked around for a moment, in awe at the sheer din of his family. A gaggle of small children raced from one end of the room to the other and disappeared around the corner, waving stuffed animals over their heads.

A young woman settled onto the couch beside Finn with a sigh. She unfolded a multicolored scarf across her chest to reveal a baby, tiny and furled and downy-headed. Finn’s gaze caught and snagged, caught by the sight.

“Hey,” the woman said. “You’re Finn, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Hi.” Finn stretched out his hand to shake hers, then realized she had her hands full with the baby. He retracted his hand and nodded instead. “Where do you fit in the family?”

“Cousin. Of this lunkhead over here,” she said, pitching her voice just loud enough to caught Poe’s attention.

“Hey.” Poe made a face at her. “Are you messing around with my man?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied loftily. “Glad you finally dared show your face, though. And even better, show off your hunky boyfriend. We were starting to worry you’d never get hitched.”

Poe winced. “You could maybe lay off of that a little, Luisa. I’d rather not scare Finn away.”

“Aww. He’s not scared, is he? Are we scaring you?” Luisa nudged Finn. “Hey. Are you still staring at Tomás? He’s cute, I know, but—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Finn likes kids,” Poe said quietly.

Finn shrugged sheepishly. “He’s beautiful.”

“Hey, Poe!” someone called from the kitchen door. “Get your face over here! Haven’t seen you in months!”

“Okay if I step away for a sec?” Poe raised an eyebrow at Finn.

“Yeah, of course.” Finn watched Poe exchange a complicated handshake with a giant of a cousin and disappear into the kitchen.

“Well.” Luisa cocked her head. “Do you want to hold him? You’re probably the only one in this family who hasn’t.”

“I—” Finn stopped short. After a moment he realized his mouth was still open, his hands clenching his knees, his lungs empty. “I,” he said. “I would love to,” he said, so quiet he wasn't quite sure he heard himself.

“Got steady hands?”

“I—yeah,” Finn managed. He held out his hands in supplication. Luisa untangled the scarf from Tomás’ legs, pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiped his nose, sniffed his diaper just to check, and handed him over. And then he was in Finn’s hands, a warm dense weight with a beating heart.

Finn shifted his grip slightly, terrified of dropping him. Tomás snuffled a little, then fell back to sleep. His entire head fit in Finn’s hand, scruffy hair and long dark lashes and tiny mushroom ears.

Finn’s mouth opened, then closed. He took a breath, then another. “You should—” he croaked. “Here.” He handed Tomás back. His heart was pounding in his ears. “I’m—I—” He stumbled up from the couch and squeezed his way through the crowd to the entrance.

He was almost at the mudroom entrance when Poe’s voice finally caught his ears. “Finn. Finn! Hey.” It was quieter in the mudroom, but not by much. Another pair of cousins staggered in from the driveway, balancing a giant casserole dish between them. They greeted Poe with laughter, gave Finn a thorough once-over, shook his hand, clapped him on the back, and stumbled on into the house, dragging the casserole to the chefs.

“Hey,” Poe said again in the sudden quiet. “Are you okay? What happened? I’m sorry I left, I—”

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay. I have—I have homework to do.”

“Please don’t lie to me. We talked about this—”

“Okay, fine, whatever, fuck, just—let me go. I’m going. Now. Goodnight.”

“Finn—”

“We talked about this too, right? Right? Was I the only one there?” Finn’s voice cracked. “Goodnight. I’ll see you—I’ll see you. Sometime. Have fun with—” Finn waved a hand. “Tell your Abuela happy birthday from me. I’m sorry. I have to go.” Finn shoved his feet into his boots, tugged the door open, and disappeared out into the night.

 

 

 

Poe stared after him.

“Hey,” Kes said.

Poe jumped and turned around, hand on his heart.

“Sorry,” Kes said. “Everything okay with you guys? What happened?”

Poe stared out after Finn. There was a lump in his throat too large to talk around. “He—” Poe stopped. “He needed. To go home.”

“Are you guys—”

“We’re fine,” Poe rasped. “I think. I hope. He’s—” Poe swallowed. “He’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath and turned back to the party. Kes put a hand on his back. Poe turned, buried his face in Kes’ shoulder, and hugged him tight, trying to breathe.

 

 

 

The bus rolled up just when Finn was starting to lose sensation in his fingers, huddled beneath his armpits. He trudged aboard, slotted his money into the machine, took a seat in the middle, leaned back against the window, tucked his feet up onto the seat, and closed his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he was jarred out of his thoughts.

A baby was crying.

He shut his ears and tried to sleep.

The baby kept crying.

 _FUCK YOU_ , Finn roared, heart aching. _FUCK ALL OF YOU. WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN EVERYWHERE? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY FUCKING CHILDREN? WHY—why—_

He cracked one eye open.

“Sleep, sleep,” a young woman crooned to a baby. The dark circles under her eyes were impressive, as was the neatly stacked pile of shopping bags crowded around her and her small son, asleep against the window. “I know,” the woman crooned. “I know. You’re so tired. But we’re almost home. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Sleep, cariño. Please.”

She laid the baby against her shoulder, patted its small back, and glanced up around the nearly-empty bus. “I’m sorry,” she whispered when she saw Finn watching.

 _It’s okay,_ Finn said, _don’t worry about it,_ but what came out of his mouth instead was “Can I try?”

The mother blinked.

“Sometimes just a different set of arms helps,” Finn said, wondering why he was still talking. “I’m not going to—” He swallowed. “Take. Your kid. Or hurt them. I swear.”

The mother bit her lip, considering. “She’s normally fine,” she said. “She’s the sweetest kid. But she’s just getting over an ear infection, and she hasn’t been sleeping right for days, and I don’t even know what to do anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, because what the hell else do you say to that?

“Thanks.” She adjusted the baby’s swaddling with careful hands. The baby only screamed louder, incensed at the world.

Finn could relate.

“Please.” His voice cracked. “Can I try?”

She looked up at him again. He wasn't sure what she saw in him, but she must have seen something, because she shifted to the edge of her seat with a soft sigh. “You know how to—”

“Yeah,” Finn said. He reached across the narrow aisle to accept the baby from her, then leaned back against the seat and cradled the baby to his chest. She screamed even louder, fists clenched, face scrunched and red.

“Shh,” Finn said, as though she’d listen to him. “Shh.” She didn't listen. He traced a finger down the side of her face. She grabbed on tight, surprisingly strong for such a tiny human.

 _“Aayo nenne,”_ he sang, trying to remember Fatimatou’s lilting tune. _“Nenne tuuti.”_ Slowly the baby quieted—screams slanting into cries, cries fading into murmurs, murmurs hitching into unsteady breaths. She got heavier in his arms, as though sleep was filling her limbs with rice. Finn adjusted his grip to hold her tightly to his chest.

“You’re a miracle worker,” the mother breathed. “A baby whisperer.”

Finn snorted.

“How much do you charge?”

“What?”

“For babysitting.”

Finn looked at her. “For—oh. No. I don’t babysit.”

“Maybe you should start.”

Finn looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Her hair was a dark chicken scratch atop her head, sticking out in all directions. “What’s her name?” he asked.

“Her name is Ranza. Well, Esperanza, but we call her Ranza. I’m Elia.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Finn.”

“So where’d you learn to take care of babies, then? Your siblings, or something?”

“I’ve killed children,” Finn said, and fuck if he knew why he said that.

Elia’s eyes were huge. She reached halfway to Ranza, then hesitated, as though terrified of provoking Finn.

“I—” Finn leaned his head against the seat in front of him and gulped in air, eyes scrunched tight. “I was a child soldier,” he rasped. “I’ve killed children. Parents. Families. I killed them, I killed them, I killed them, I killed them—”

He wrenched upright and handed Ranza back to her mother with shaking hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” He shoved to his feet, lurched down the aisle, stumbled to a halt mid-step, and looked back. Elia held his wrist in a vice grip, eyes hard.

“Sit down,” she said.

Finn stared at her.

“Sit,” she said. The line of her brow snapped shut.

Finn sat.

Elia rummaged around in her purse, then handed him a tissue. Finn took it automatically, then stared at it. “What,” he said. He touched his face. It was wet. He swiped the tissue across his cheeks, then shoved it in his pocket and stared at his hands.

A small topaz-skinned face, framed by a bramble of dark hair, looked up at him. Finn blinked. He looked at Elia.

“You going to hold her, or am I going to keep holding her here all night?” Elia asked. “Whatever you do, think quick, because stretching across the aisle like this isn’t very comfortable.”

Finn’s hands came up to take the baby of their own accord. Ranza was a small warm weight in his arms, a comma in the world, an afterthought in the night. Finn could feel her heartbeat beneath his thumb, the warm puff of her breath beneath his forehead. She snuffled in her sleep, then sighed, with a hint of a smile.

“Why?” Finn’s voice cracked.

“I don’t know. But it’s been years since I saw a man cry over a baby.” Elia paused. “You were a child soldier? Really?”

Finn nodded.

“Why did you sign up?”

“What?” Finn’s face twisted. “I didn’t! God, no. I would never have chosen it.”

“Then why were you there?”

“They—” Finn’s voice dropped to a numb flatline. “They took me. From my family.”

“Oh, cariño.” Elia touched his arm. “Then it’s not your fault, what you did.”

Finn snorted.

“Look, I’m not a therapist. I don’t have any fancy words to convince you. I just know that if anyone took my children—” She stopped.

Finn looked up to find her wiping tears from her eyes.

“God,” she managed at last. “If they managed to get free someday. And found their way back to me. I would never blame them for what they did. I would take them back with open arms. Your—your parents—”

“I don’t know.” Finn closed his eyes. “I have no way to find them. I don’t even know my real last name. I chose the one I use now.” He’d decided on it in a burst of hope, while signing into the refugee camp, when he really had felt like a brave warrior with a chance of returning home someday.

“Why did you leave?” she asked quietly.

Finn blinked at her. “I had to,” he said. “It was—it was—” The flickering red taillights of the cars ahead of them morphed into a bonfire, then snapped back to an eerie glow. “I needed to get out of there,” he said.

Ranza stretched suddenly, mouth opening wide in a tiny, perfect, rose-pink yawn. She blinked up at Finn, then reached up to grip his chin with surprising strength for someone so tiny. Something in her crinkling dark eyes reminded him of Poe, giving Finn that goddamn sweet look like he believed in him.

“She likes you,” Elia laughed softly. “You sure you don’t babysit? You’re a natural.”

“I have to get off the bus,” Finn said, and carefully handed Ranza back across the aisle.

"Okay,” Elia said, nonplussed. She settled Ranza into her arms again with a swift kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes—I—no. I have to go.” Finn yanked the stopcord and settled his hat further onto his head. “Goodbye. It was nice to meet you. And Ranza. I hope she gets better. Thank you for—for—thank you. So much. Bye.”

Finn rattled down the aisle just as the bus pulled up to the curb, hugged his elbows to his chest against the cold, and crossed to the bus station on the opposite side of the street.

 

 

 

Poe was stuck between Luísa and his cousin Olivia, half asleep on the couch, when the doorbell rang. He was halfway across the living room before he fully registered that one of the voices murmuring in the mudroom was Finn’s. He leaned against the mudroom’s entrance, boneless with relief.

“Oh hey, you’re here.” Tío Rafael nodded at Poe. “Good timing. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” He patted Poe on the back as he returned to his perch in the kitchen.

Finn’s hands tightened on his backpack. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Poe stepped forward, then hesitated. “Are you, um. Are you okay? I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Finn nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“That’s okay, buddy.” Poe bit his lip. “Do you, um. Do you want to talk about it?”

Finn scuffed a toe along the floor. “I just—your family.” His brow pinched again, the way it did when he was too upset to find the English words he wanted. “It was too much. I was overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry, Finn. Do you want to go home? I can come back with you, if you want.”

“No. I’m okay. I needed a moment. I’m okay now.”

“Okay.” Poe took a deep breath. “Well. In that case. Can I hug you?”

“Please.” Finn stepped forward into Poe’s arms with a small smile.

Poe wrapped him in close and kissed his temple. “Thank you for coming back.”

Finn nodded against Poe’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to find us a quieter corner to sit in, at least?” Poe asked. “Away from the crowd?”

“No,” Finn said again, stronger this time. “I’ll be okay. I want to meet your family. Celebrate with you all.”

“Brave man.”

“Crazy, you mean,” Finn laughed softly. “But I like your family. They’re nuts, but they’re sweet, too. I can see where you get it from.”

“Mmm?” Poe led Finn back into the living room, stepping carefully to avoid a pair of cousins stretched out on the floor playing an intense game of chess. He settled back onto the couch, nodded gratefully across the room to Olivia, who’d moved to give them space, and leaned against Finn’s shoulder. “Well,” he murmured in Finn’s ear. “They like you too. Tío Rafael said, and I quote—”

Tomás’ earsplitting cry drowned out Poe’s next words. Luísa switched her grip and rocked him a bit.

Poe opened his mouth to continue, then noticed how Finn’s gaze was locked on the baby and mother again, like a moth at a porch light. “We can step out for a sec, if you like,” Poe said quietly. “Until it’s quieter. Or I can ask them to.”

“No. It’s okay.” Finn reached around Poe towards Luisa. “Can I hold him?”

“You can try,” Luisa sighed. “I’ve given him everything he could possibly need right now. He’s been pretty colicky at night lately. I think I should probably just take him home.” She bundled Tomás up a little tighter and handed him over to Finn.

Finn didn’t hold the baby like a live grenade, as he had earlier. This time, he cradled the baby in his arms as gently and confidently as he held Poe. Finn smiled down at Tomás, scrunched up his nose, and murmured sweet nothings to him—half in English, half in a mix of languages that Poe couldn’t quite distinguish. Except for the bits of…Spanish?

“How the hell do you know Spanish, buddy?” Poe asked curiously.

“I have my secrets.” Finn winked. “I learned a bit in the camp. You should teach me more sometime.”

“Of course. I’d love to. And, um. Could I—” Poe stopped short.

Finn cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I’d love to learn a bit of Yoruba. If you ever want to teach me.”

Finn’s brow furrowed. For a moment, Poe worried he’d gotten too close to Finn’s moratorium on talking about Before—but then Finn nodded, face clearing. “I would love to,” he said. “I’m not very literate in it. I’ve never had time to learn. Someday—maybe once I graduate, and have a spare second—I’m going to learn how to actually spell all the words I know. But for now, I could just teach you orally.”  

Poe deserved the Humanitarian Award of the Year for not turning ‘orally’ into a dick joke.

Finn’s lips twitched at the edges in a wicked smile.

“That would, um,” Poe managed. “Thank you, buddy. I would love that.”

“Thank _you.”_ Finn pressed a quick kiss to Poe’s cheek. “It’ll be nice to be able to talk to you in it, even just a little bit. If you get good enough, maybe I’ll even take you to my favorite restaurant. To meet the people who taught me how to cook food from home.”

“I would love that, buddy.”

Finn smiled at Poe. “And we can—”

Tomás screamed again, face red and inconsolable.

“Shhh, cariño.” Finn adjusted his grip and tucked the swaddling closer around Tomás’ shoulders. “Ti o ba wa ailewu.” _You’re safe._

Finn rocked Tomás in his arms and crooned a lullaby, face alight with joy. Tomás stared up at him with a look of awestruck, wide-eyed wonder.

Poe stared at both of them with an identical look on his face—eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, utterly entranced. When he finally managed to look up, Abuela caught his eye from across the room with a gleeful smirk.

Poe’s cheeks flushed hot.

Abuela blew him a kiss.

Then Finn leaned back against Poe, and nothing else mattered. Poe folded Finn and Tomás into his arms, closed his eyes, and let Finn’s soft voice sink into his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter exists because my real OTP is Finn/loving family, or at least Finn/babies. Please feel free to trawl my [Finn](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/155274319707/accras-john-nephew-x-oh-oh-my-god-oh) / [babies](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/164069379052) tag for more quality [Cuteness](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/155450793797/twofrontteethstillcrooked-jawnbaeyega-john) [Overload](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/161370890007/rose-tico-john-boyega-and-his-nephew-during-a) content. 
> 
> Finn's lullaby is [Aayo Nenne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYu44EjriVo), a Wolof lullaby. I tried for about six hours to find a Tuareg lullaby that Finn would have heard from the family he watched in the camp, but no luck. At any rate, I'm sure he's heard Fatimatou sing this to her nieces and nephews many times.


	9. get up and dance

“PDA?” Poe asked in an undertone as he followed Finn off the bus.

“I—” Finn’s steps slowed. “I don’t know.”

Poe looked at Finn’s face, then shrugged. “I’ll follow your lead, whatever you choose. Are you, um. Are you out to them?”

“Sort of?” Finn bit his lip. “I mean, technically, I guess. Fatimatou knows, and she’s probably told the others. But I’ve never brought a guy home before.”

“Not too late to back out,” Poe said softly.

“No.” Finn squared his shoulders as they turned the corner onto Fatimatou’s street. “I’m proud to bring you home. I can do this.” He reached out towards Poe.

Poe took Finn’s hand with a bright smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Proud of you too, buddy.”

Finn smiled back—how could he not?—led Poe up the ramp to the house, took a deep breath of the familiar smell of Fatimatou’s cooking, and knocked on the door. The door opened almost immediately, guarded—as always—by the youngest cousins, who took their post very seriously.

“Bonjour!” A gaggle of children, dressed to the nines in bright colors, welcomed them into the small house.

Finn grinned at them and ruffled the tallest one’s hair. “Bonjour! Nanga def?”

“Maangi fi!” they chorused. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year to you all too! This is Poe, my—boyfriend. Poe, this is—wow, you guys get bigger every time I see you. This is Khady, Oumar, Binata, Moussa, John, and Amadou.”

“Nice to meet you all!” Poe waved hello. “What do I have to do to get a great dress like that?” He nodded at Khady’s ruffled green boubou.

“Be a _girl,_ silly.” Khady rolled her eyes.

“Oh. Right.” Poe nodded solemnly. “I’ll have to work on that.”

“Don’t work too hard,” Finn murmured in his ear. “I like you the way you are.” He tugged Poe into the main room with a smug smile.

“Hey, Fing-aling-aling! Happy New Year.” Aïcha popped out of the kitchen to give Finn an enthusiastic hug.

“Hey, Aïcha.” Finn beamed at her. “This is Poe, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Aïcha shook Poe’s hand, then leaned in towards Finn and whispered,  “Thanks for not leaving me as the only gay one around here.”

“Least I can do, no?” Finn laughed. “You did the heavy lifting. No great family schisms over me. At least, I hope not.”

“Mmm, I hope so too. But still, it’s nice of you. Here, come on in, say hi!”

Finn stepped into the crowded kitchen and craned his head, searching for—  

“Fatimatou, ton fils est arrivé!” Mariama called from the counters, where she was stuffing the fish with roff. “Hi, Finn.”

“Hi, Auntie Mariama. This is Poe, my boyfriend.”

“Ah, of course! Nice to meet you, Poe. Finn, how’s college going, are you—” She stopped short and stepped back to let Fatimatou wheel out of the kitchen.

“Sama doom.” Fatimatou beamed up at them and held out her arms to Finn. “Come here.”

Finn leaned down to give her a hug, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the safety of her arms. “Happy New Year,” he murmured.

“And to you.” Fatimatou released him with a smile.

“This is Poe,” Finn said, heart pounding. “My boyfriend.” Strange how the same words felt so much more important in his mouth around Fatimatou.

Fatimatou reached up to give Poe a warm hug. “Poe! It’s lovely to meet you at last. I’ve heard a lot about you. Good things, I promise.”

“Same here.” Poe grinned at her as he straightened from the hug. “Thanks for letting me crash your party.”

“You’re always welcome here. ” Fatimatou patted his hand. “The men should be back from the mosque in about twenty minutes, as long as the traffic’s not too bad. Beignets are in the living room if you get hungry.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Poe asked.

Fatimatou’s eyes crinkled up into stars as she laughed. “I like this one,” she said to Finn, still chuckling. “No, dear. We’ve got it under control. Not enough room in the kitchen, anyway. But maybe if you’re very very good, you can try to pour some tea later.”

Finn forcibly restrained himself from mentioning—or even thinking about—how Poe was very good with his hands and would definitely be able to learn how to build up a head of froth in the tea glasses.

Poe squeezed Finn’s hand. “I’ll try to be good,” he told Fatimatou solemnly. “Now, where are these beignets I’ve heard so much about?”

 

 

 

“I don’t have any baby pictures,” Fatimatou said.

Poe nearly jumped off the couch, then turned to Fatimatou, who had appeared out of nowhere. “Um. Hi. Uh. Baby pictures? Of Finn, you mean? That’s okay, I don’t know how you would.”

“Mmm.” Fatimatou nodded. “But I do have prom photos. Is that embarrassing enough?”

“Oh, god, no, don’t do that to him, that’s—”

“Do what?” Finn slid onto the couch next to Poe and tucked his chin onto Poe’s shoulder. “Are you guys plotting against me?”

“I thought we could show Poe your prom photos,” Fatimatou said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Yes, in other words,” Poe said. “Or at least, Fatimatou is. I would never do such a thing. I wasn’t going to look at them.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Finn patted Poe’s hand. “You’re good.”

Poe’s cheeks flushed hot.

 _“You,_ on the other hand,” Finn continued, eyeing Fatimatou—

“He looks great in a suit, no?” Fatimatou asked Poe.

Poe glanced between the two. “I am _so_ not getting into this one—”

Fatimatou beamed at Finn.

“—are a menace,” Finn continued calmly. “I should have deleted them from your computer while I had a chance.”

“They’re great photos!” Fatimatou protested, lips twitching against a grin. “You looked so sharp.”

“Well, I did,” Finn allowed. “This is true.”

“Finn!” Rey shouted from the mudroom.

“Peanut! You made it!” Finn called back, grinning widely. “Back in a sec,” he said to Poe, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry. Poe nodded slightly; Finn squeezed his hand with a smile and stepped out to greet Rey and Karé.

“He’s so happy when he’s here,” Poe said softly. “Settled. Calm. Content.”

Fatimatou nodded. “He worries himself sick, sometimes, when he’s at school.”

“Yeah. I try to help, when he wants—listen to him, or make him cookies, or just cuddle while he reads.”

“He can take care of himself,” Fatimatou said quietly.

“I know,” Poe said, eyes caught on the excited gleam in Finn’s eyes as he talked with Rey and Karé. “But he doesn’t have to. At least, not all the time. Not anymore.”

Fatimatou nodded to herself, following Poe’s gaze. “September,” she said. “August’s too hot for an outdoor wedding, and May’s too soon after graduation, not enough time to plan. September, the year he graduates, so you can start your lives together.”

“We—” Poe blinked at her. “We’re not—I mean—we’re just—”

“Life is too short to tell yourself shit.” Fatimatou clicked her tongue at him. “September is beautiful here. The trees are just starting to turn colors, and the asters are blooming. Gorgeous. We can cover the tables with flowers.”

“He does look really good in a suit,” Poe said softly.

Fatimatou’s face crinkled up into a smile. “Think about it, okay?” She winked at him and wheeled back towards the kitchen.

 

 

 

Finn leaned back against the couch, then hesitantly wrapped his arm around Poe’s shoulders. His body was warm with tea and spice, safe in his adopted home, reverberating with the percussive music that filled the living room.  

Poe snuggled into Finn’s side. “Thanks for inviting me here,” he murmured. “Your family is so lovely.”

“They’re not my family,” Finn said automatically. “They’re Fatimatou’s family.”

“Sorry.” Poe kissed Finn’s shoulder. “They treat you like family, though.”

“Yeah. Well. They are lovely people, I—”

A burst of synthetic chords and a ruffle of drums popped up from the speakers. Finn jolted half-upright and stared across the room.

Fatimatou set the phone back down atop the speakers and looked up to meet Finn’s eyes. She made a _stop_ motion with her hands, then cocked an eyebrow in question.

Finn stared at her.

Poe set a cautious hand on Finn’s arm. “You all right, buddy?”

Finn took a deep breath, eyes locked on Fatimatou’s. At last, he glanced over at Poe, looked back at Fatimatou, and gave her a tiny smile. She beamed back at him, then turned back to a lively conversation with her sister.

“Finn,” Poe whispered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Finn managed. Every breath he took drew the song into his lungs. It filled his veins with an insistent, throbbing beat—like he was running down the track, limbs loose and free. Like he was jumping on a concrete floor, head barely at the height of everyone’s knees.

Finn took Poe’s hand and rubbed his thumb over Poe’s knuckles. “Want to dance?”

“Anytime, buddy.”

Finn tugged Poe out onto the living room floor to join the throng of dancing cousins. His body knew how to dance to this, like no other song he’d ever heard.

 _E dide e mujo,_ King Sunny Adé crooned. _Get up and dance._

The music peeled upwards in synthesized chords, pulsing with a lively drumbeat. Finn closed his eyes and let it fill him, hips and ribs and shoulders, hands in the air.

His parents laughed, took his hands, and lifted him up between them in a joyous leap. He flew through the air for a moment, then landed on Fatimatou’s smooth wooden floor, feet tapping between Poe’s.

 

_Let your feelings show_

_Let your body move_

_'Cause the music is so nice_

_And the mood is all right_

 

As the song faded out in a soft cascade of drumbeats, Finn tucked his head into Poe’s shoulder. Poe’s arms came up to circle him.

“My parents danced to that song,” Finn murmured at last.

Poe froze.

“I,” Finn said, hands tightening around Poe’s waist. “I danced with them, too.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Poe kissed Finn’s hair. “That’s lovely. I’m so sorry you lost them.”

Finn nodded, throat tight. He took a shaky breath, then another. Poe’s arms kept him safe, grounded among his family. Rey’s bright laughter bubbled up from the corner, followed by Karé’s muffled snicker.

Everyone he loved, in one room, dancing.

Everyone who loved him, in one room, dancing with him.

The syncopated polyrhythms of one of Fatimatou’s favorite mbalax songs started up from the speakers, punctuated with smooth Wolof lyrics. Khady and Oumar and Binata made a ring around Amadou, the youngest and tiniest cousin, and swung around as fast as they could. Mariama stepped back into the room with another round of tea, balanced carefully on a silver tray. Fatimatou laughed with Aïcha in the corner, head thrown back in delight.

Finn took Poe’s hands and stepped back, hips already bopping in time to the music. “Dance, motherfucker.” His face cracked open into a grin. “That’s what you said, no? Last time.”

“Yeah,” Poe managed. “Yeah, I—” He started to move with Finn, sliding into the groove of the music. “God, I love dancing with you,” he said on a breath, just loud enough to reach Finn.

“Same back at you.” Finn pressed a quick kiss to Poe’s cheek. “And, uh—thank you for coming. It—it means a lot to me for you to meet—my family.”

“My pleasure, buddy.” Poe’s eyes glittered in the bright light of the living room. “Are—are you okay?”

“I’m dancing.” Finn danced closer, chest brushing against Poe’s. “With you. And—with my family. I don’t think I’ve ever been better in my life.”  

“Yeah?” Poe grinned at Finn. “God, buddy. I’m so fucking glad.”

“Me too.” Finn cupped Poe’s ridiculously beautiful face in his palms and kissed him. Poe wrapped his arms around Finn’s back and drew him in close, swaying to the bright beat from the speakers.

Finn linked his arms around Poe’s neck, buried his head in Poe’s shoulder, and closed his eyes.

Across the room, his mother beamed at him, eyes as kind as Fatimatou’s. His father tucked her against his side and nodded at Finn with a proud smile.

 _Thank you._ Finn watched them join the dancing, took a deep breath of the familiar scent of tea and thieboudienne, and cuddled closer into Poe’s warm embrace, surrounded by all of his families. _Thank you for teaching me how to dance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Finn and his parents danced to is [E Dide E Mujo,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaKx41Jfp1g) by King Sunny Adé. The song Fatimatou plays next is [Waaw,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8P8xk4FSN8) by Viviane Chidid. 
> 
> [Thieboudienne/Ceebu jen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U2-nhfFRko) = (cheb-oo-jen) spiced fish with rice and vegetables, the national dish of Senegal, 10/10 would recommend  
> Na nga def = How are you?  
> Mangi fi = I'm fine
> 
> And if you needed Finn's prom photos, or more evidence that he looks good in a suit, or a reason to grin for a few hours, have John's prom photos with [Daisy,](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/07/55/d6/0755d637438211d1120a80e117ded6b8--john-boyega-star-wars-celebration.jpg) [Lupita,](http://i2.irishmirror.ie/incoming/article7028848.ece/ALTERNATES/s615b/Star-Wars-Force-Awakens.jpg) and [Oscar.](https://m.aceshowbiz.com/webimages/wennpic/boyega-isaac-uk-premiere-star-wars-the-force-awakens-02.jpg) And some more photos of [John](http://tomandlorenzo.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/John-Boyega-Star-Wars-London-Premiere-Fashion-Burberry-Tom-Lorenzo-Site-5.jpg) [Boyega](http://static.socialitelife.com/uploads/2015/11/05/john-boyega-thr-11052015-01-750x500.jpg) [looking](http://www.mensstyle.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/JOHN-BOYEGA.jpg) [far](http://cdn03.cdn.justjared.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/boyega-bafta/john-boyega-wins-rising-star-award-at-baftas-2016-04.jpg) better than anyone ever should.


	10. inside and out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: descriptions of scars, implied past torture.

“You—wait, _seriously?_ Fuck!”

Finn nodded, trying to bite back a wild grin.

“Proud of you, buddy.” Poe flung his arms around Finn and swung him around. “God. So fucking proud. You never even said a _word_ about it!”

Finn shrugged. “I didn’t want any favors, or special treatment. If I’m going to do this, I want to know it’s because I _can.”_

“You can do whatever you set your mind to,” Poe said fervently. “And I—I wouldn’t have pulled any strings, if you’d asked me not to.”

“Didn’t want to put you in that position.”

“Well. That’s fair. And, wow. Wow, wow, wow. Pretty sure you’ll be the youngest staffer the Resistance has ever had. What's your first mission?”

“She’s got an audience with the UN in June. She wants me to go with her and speak to them for a few minutes. Going to start work after graduation, write a speech, work on it with her.”

“‘Her’ as in…Leia Organa? You're going to work one-on-one with Leia Organa.”

Finn's face cracked into an irrepressible grin. “Yep.”

 _“Fuck.”_ Poe blinked at Finn for a moment, then cupped Finn’s cheek in his palm and kissed him. “I feel like I ought to be jealous, but you deserve it so fucking much, I can’t even manage that. Congratulations, Finn. I can’t wait to see the broadcast.”

“Thanks, man. Maybe we’ll get you on TV too, someday.”

“Nooooo, no no no, definitely not. I’m horrible at sticking to the script.”

“True,” Finn laughed. “I remember.”

“What do you mean, you remember?”

“Your speech. After the medal ceremony.”

Poe blinked at Finn. “You saw that.”

“Yeah. I googled you after we talked, at that first lunch. Saw the youtube video. Didn’t I tell you? I thought I told you.”

Poe’s mouth worked fruitlessly for a moment. “You already knew I was gay,” he managed at last. “In the park, when I went and crammed both feet into my mouth.”

Finn beamed at Poe.

“You are _sneaky.”_

“Get used to it, Dameron.”

“Fuck.” Poe shook his head. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Jess is going to show me around the office during my first two weeks at the Resistance, train me, mentor me until I’m up to speed on everything.”

Poe paled. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“You’ll live.” Finn kissed Poe’s cheek.

“Well,” Poe sighed, “it was nice having dignity while it lasted.”

“Dignity is _so_ overrated.” Finn bit his lip. “Anyway, I bet you’ll have equal blackmail against me, pretty soon. I’m not sure I’ll be much better at sticking to the script than you are. I’m going to get onto the stand and forget every word of my speech, I’m sure.”

“Well, you’ll have a copy of it in front of you, or a teleprompter, depending on the place. So you can just read it for a few moments if you need to, get your feet back under you.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“And I’ve seen you speak under pressure,” Poe added. “Your speech last fall, at the end-of-semester debate? Holy shit, Finn. That was a masterpiece.”

“Thanks.” Finn took a deep breath. “I can do this. I think?”

“Damn right, you can. And hey, maybe someone will even listen, once or twice.”

“Spoken like a cynical activist,” Finn snorted. He ran a hand through Poe’s curls, letting them tumble loosely through his fingers. “I hope it works. Of course I do. But…”

Poe waited.

“I have to keep fighting,” Finn said softly, holding Poe’s gaze. “Until it works. Someday, it will. It _has_ to.”

“Well, as long as you’re fighting, I’m in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Poe hugged Finn tightly.

“Good,” Finn mumbled into Poe’s shoulder. “That way we can go fuck up together.”

“You're not going to fuck up. Really. But hey, if we do, we can go fuck afterwards, to forget our troubles.”

 _“Now_ you’re talking,” Finn grinned.

“Speaking of fucking.” Poe bit his lip. “Did you want to, um.”

“You're doing it again, you know,” Finn said gently. “So the answer’s probably yes.”

“Right.” Poe took a deep breath. “Yeah. Um. So, uh. I just wanted to say. I’ve been, um. Working on it. For a while now. Getting used to it. I—I think I can do it now. And I—I want to. So badly. I want to try, at least. Do—do you?”

“Try what, sweetheart?”

“Being naked.” Poe’s eyes glimmered a bit in the bright kitchen lights, round and dark and scared and—hopeful?

“Oh.” Finn reached towards Poe.

Poe took his hand and held it tightly.

“Of course I would,” Finn murmured. “I’d love to see you. The rest of you, I mean. However much you want to show me. We can go as slow as you want. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not a blushing high-schooler,” Poe snapped.

“If you’re uncomfortable,” Finn repeated calmly. “You tell me. And we’ll stop. Right there. Or change what we’re doing, whatever you want. No questions. No reasons. Okay?”

Poe opened his mouth as though to argue, then stopped. “Okay. Um. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Finn reached out to Poe again. Brushed his thumb over Poe’s cheek, under his ear. Tangled his fingers in Poe’s hair. Brought Poe’s face close to his, nosed over his hairline, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Poe swayed closer, loose-limbed and pliant, and linked his arms around Finn’s neck.

“I’m honored that you trust me,” Finn murmured.

“You earned that trust. Every bit of it.”

Finn took a breath to argue, then dropped it. “Well. Thank you. So, ah. Where do you want me?”

“Where do you want to be?” Poe asked.

“On your bed, naked.”

Poe pulled back and looked at Finn, eyes wide. Finn managed to hold a straight face for about two and a half seconds before cracking into laughter, bright and gleeful. “Your _face_ ,” he cackled. “Oh, Poe, the look on your face right now.”

“That does it.” Laughing too hard to walk straight, Poe grabbed Finn’s arm and started dragging him towards his bedroom. “Careful what you wish for, buddy. You’re about to get it.”

Finn stumbled after him, bent in half with laughter. “I think,” he giggled. “We are going to have fun.”

“We are, buddy. We certainly are.” Poe toppled backwards onto the bed and pulled Finn down with him, breathless with laughter.

Finn propped himself on his elbows and grinned down at Poe. “So. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I’m going to visit all of the Virginia state reps, see if they’re willing to back a rally in—”

“Asshole,” Finn snorted, and kissed Poe.

“Yeah,” Poe panted. “What was I thinking? Work? What’s work?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Pants,” Poe said. “Weren’t we talking about pants? Specifically, you getting into mine.”

Finn squinted down their bodies. “Might be a tight fit. Especially if you mean both of us in there at once.”

“Smartass.” Poe leaned up to kiss Finn’s cheek.

“Always,” Finn grinned. “What do you want to do?”

“Everything.”

“You know, we have plenty of time. We could probably get a good head start on everything. So. What do you want to do first?”

Poe’s head fell back against the pillow. “ _Everything._ I want your mouth on me. I want to suck you down. I want you _in me_ , fuck, I want to bury myself in _you_. I want—”

Finn cracked up into laughter, face buried in Poe’s neck. “Oh, fuck, Poe. _Fuck._ I’m gong to die of lust here before we even get started.” 

“God, so am I,” Poe groaned. “Can I—” He smoothed a hand over Finn’s shirt. “Can I see you? Naked, I mean. Do you—”

“Of course. Like I said before, I’d love to. Wait, were you—” Finn sat up, still straddling Poe’s lap. “You asking me to give you a striptease, Dameron?”

Poe bit his lip. “Maaaybe? Do you want to?”

“Poe fucking Dameron—” Finn kissed Poe with just the slightest hint of teeth.

“Yeah?” Poe panted, pulling Finn closer by the collar of his shirt.

“You,” Finn said, finding himself again in the familiar heat of making out with Poe. “Are. Incredible.”

“Same to you, you know.”

“You want me to give you a striptease, huh?”

“Only if you want to.”

Finn broke off from the kiss and sat back. “I want to.”

“Good. Then—” Poe pushed himself upright, leaned back against the wall, and waved a magnanimous hand at the room. “Floor’s yours, my beautiful man. Show me what you’ve got.”

Finn grinned at Poe, flush with joy. He rolled off the bed, padded into the middle of the room, and struck a pose.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, pulling a performer’s cloak around his shoulders. He’d done this before, once, for another lover. It had been fun. Sexy. Silly.

This was different.

This was _Poe._

Finn found his mouth suddenly dry.

He raised the hem of his shirt, teasing a strip of abs, a dark trail of hair leading down to his waistband, then let it fall again to his hip. Flicked open the first button of his shirt, then the second. His fingers slid from one button to the next, revealing his chest inch by inch. Down, down, further down, button after button. The maroon linen fluttered open across his chest, gaped over his collarbone.

When Finn had strip-teased before, this was the point where his lover had gasped and asked him about the various old scars that crisscross his torso.

Poe was silent.

When Finn looked up again, he found the oddest expression on Poe’s face, something he couldn't quite parse. “You okay?” he asked, softly.

Poe looked up at him, startled. “Yeah! Yeah. I’m fine. You’re—” He stopped, shook his head. “You’re beautiful.”

Finn shrugged and let it go for now. “Well,” he said. “Thank you.” With a snap of his fingers, the last button fell open. He let the shirt fall down one arm, then the next. Tugged it off his wrists, slid it across his torso, tossed it off to a corner of the room.

Finn rolled his hips in a silent version of his dancefloor signature, ran a hand over his ass, then swept back up to his fly. Button, zipper, slow khaki slide. Finn kicked his pants to the side, ran a finger up from his thigh to his chest, tilted his head to the side, and stroked down the other side of his body until he reached his boxers again.

Poe whistled and shifted to adjust himself.

Finn’s smile broadened, low and smug. He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of his boxers, slid the close-fitting black fabric down over his already half-hard cock, and stepped out of the boxers, quick and easy.

When he looked up again through his lashes, he found Poe’s mouth slightly parted. “Look, Dameron, you’ve seen my dick before. Is this the first time you’ve seen the rest of a naked guy?”

“Six years in the Air Force, you crazy? I’ve seen way too many naked bodies. No, it’s—it’s—it’s _you.”_  

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “It is. Glad you know that. It would be weird if I…wasn’t me?”

“Asshole,” Poe laughed. “Get over here so I can admire you properly, yeah? Or—no. No, wait. Um. I can—it’s my turn to strip now, right?”

“Only if you still want to. And if not, that’s fine. Really.”

“I—” Poe hesitated for a long time. There was a bright glint in his gaze, militant and vulnerable at the same time.

Finn waited, watching the slow tumble of Poe’s thoughts.

“I still want to,” Poe said at last, quiet and sure.

“Oh,” Finn said, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “Oh. You’re—oh. Okay.”

Poe slid off the bed, traced the lines of Finn’s chest, and pressed a kiss to the back of Finn’s neck, just above the trailing edge of his scar. “Is that okay? Do you want me to?”

“Very—” Finn caught Poe’s hands and kissed them. “That’s, ah. That’s very okay.” He jumped back onto the bed, pulled a pillow behind him, and inclined his head regally, naked in his sheet-draped throne. “Floor’s yours, handsome.”

“Right,” Poe said. “I—” He stopped and stared at the floor. Feet shoulder-width apart. Arms down by his sides. Shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Finn waited, watching the rise and fall of Poe’s chest, the way his shirt draped over his shoulders, the clench-unclench of his hands. Someone laughed in the apartment next door. A fire truck raced past outside, urgent and shrill. A clock ticked on the wall.

At last Poe lifted his eyes to Finn’s. “I have a lot of scars,” he rasped.

A tumble of irreverent, nervous quips tumbled through Finn’s head and over his tongue. _Just flesh wounds,_ he thought _._ Or _maybe we can ask Rey to give you a tuneup along with your bike._ Or _does this mean I get a discount?_ But he discarded them all as quickly as they arose.

“I know,” he said instead, very soft. “That’s okay. So do I.”

Poe held his gaze. Lifted the hem of his shirt. Raised it, inch by inch. No artifice, no pretense. No finesse. It was the sexiest thing Finn had ever seen, and the bravest.

Finn kept his eyes on Poe’s, ignoring the slow reveal. He leaned forward on the bed, wishing he could look, get closer, touch. Wishing he could cry, too, but that wasn't for now, that wasn't even something he could think about right now.

Poe slipped the shirt over his head, tossed it behind him, found Finn’s eyes again, and took a breath. Straightened his back. Squared his shoulders. Lifted his chin. His fists were clenched by his sides, ready for battle, ready for—anything.

“You’re so beautiful, Poe.” The words slipped unbidden out of Finn’s mouth. He hadn't even looked down yet. Now was the time to keep his eyes on Poe’s. To make a space where Poe felt safe. To take him in his arms and protect him from the world and— “You’re so _beautiful,”_ Finn whispered again, and it was true, it was so true.

“Yeah?” Poe’s voice cracked.

“Yeah,” Finn said, with absolute conviction.

“Well.” Poe bit his lip. “Good to know,” he said, starting to smile again. His hand slid down to his waistband and hovered for a moment.

Finn finally let his smirk regain its natural territory. “Tease,” he whispered.

“It’s called a striptease,” Poe whispered back, eyes still locked on Finn’s. He flicked the button open and let the dark jeans slide lower on his hips. Ran his fingers up and down his fly, tilted his hips forward, slid the zipper down—ever so slowly—slipped his hips right-left in an easy dance move, and let the jeans fall to the floor.

Poe stroked himself again through his boxers, then toyed with the waistband. The warm light of the lamp lit up Poe’s eyes, cast a gentle glow to his skin, and outlined the cut of his jaw. Poe slipped the boxers over his cock. His growing erection sprung free, framed by a generous bush, and—

And yeah, okay, Finn’s eyes weren’t on Poe’s anymore. Finn would like to dare anyone to sit in this room while Poe Dameron unveiled his beautiful cock and _not fucking look at it._ At any rate, it should have been clear by now that he was looking at Poe’s cock, not his scars. On a purely technical basis, the part in question probably shouldn’t have been so astonishing? He’d seen it before, after all. And it was neither longer nor shorter nor thicker nor narrower than average. But it was—just—

_Gorgeous._

Poe laughed outright at the look on Finn’s face. “Like what you see?” he asked huskily.

“Yeah,” Finn managed at last. “Yeah. I do. You—” He found Poe’s eyes again and reached up to him. “Are fucking gorgeous,” he said.

_And brave. And wonderful. And you listen so fucking well. And you make me laugh like no one else ever has. And I—_

_I—_

_But if I say that now, you’ll think I’m just hungry for your dick. And yes, okay, there's probably a part of me that is right now, but that’s not at all why I—_

_Why I—_

Finn’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Yeah?” Poe swayed forward and took Finn’s hands. Finn tugged Poe down to the bed—and _oh, fuck,_ the warmth of their skin, together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, the hint of friction where their cocks rubbed up against each other—Finn closed his eyes and tipped his head back onto the pillow.

Poe nestled in closer to Finn’s body. Finn stroked Poe’s hair. Poe hummed and leaned into the touch. Ever since the first time they had made out, it had been clear to Finn that the way to Poe’s heart was through his hair. Finn combed through it now, inhaling the spicy scent of Poe’s shampoo. Rosemary, maybe? Old Spice? Whatever it was, Finn was starting to develop a Pavlovian response to it. 

“What do you want to do?” Finn murmured.

“Everything,” Poe said.

“What do you want to do first, then?” Finn laughed.

“Hmm…” Poe rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Finn propped himself up on his elbow, started to run a finger over Poe’s chest—and _fuck fuck oh holy fuck this was such a fucking mistake_ maybe they would have to actually deal with this now. Poe froze beneath him, breath coming faster. “Sorry,” Finn whispered, dropping back down to the bed and screwing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” Poe found Finn’s hand and placed it gently back on his chest. “If we’re going to do this. Then—let’s do this.”

“You’re sure?”

Poe nodded, dark eyes intent on Finn’s.

“Okay,” Finn whispered. “Okay.”   

He shifted up again and resumed where he left off, heart pounding in his temples. Traced a smooth pec down to a perfect, dark nipple. Kissed it, sucked the hardened nub until Poe shivered beneath him. Lifted his head again and continued tracing further down, over a series of jagged scars that marred Poe’s chest from just beneath his heart to halfway across his torso. Finn ran a finger down Poe’s left side, soft and light and quick enough to make Poe jerk beneath his touch.

“Ticklish?” Finn murmured, low and devilish.

“No,” Poe answered, far too quickly.

“Riiiight,” Finn snorted, but he left it for now. He swept down even lower and ran a finger along the silver gashes that chopped Poe’s stomach up into a jagged mess. Found Poe’s navel, nearly obscured by the scars, and pressed a kiss to it. Slid a hand down Poe’s thigh, over the damaged muscles and purple pockmarks.

Trying to keep breathing evenly, Finn traced up to Poe’s left nipple again, and suckled it. Moved on, running a hand over the burn scars that turned Poe’s right shoulder and most of the right side of his chest into a puckered clusterfuck of red and white. Even his right nipple was gone, lost beneath the layered scars, whether carved out or burnt out or— Finn swallowed, swallowed harder. Willed himself not to cry. Kissed Poe instead, fervent and horrified and trembling.

He listened to Poe’s breathing as it slowly settled back to a steady rhythm. Paced his own breathing. Tried to settle back into himself.

“You’re beautiful,” Finn whispered between kisses. “So beautiful, Poe.”

Poe buried his nose in Finn’s neck, rolled over onto him, and kissed his way down to Finn’s pulse point. Finn closed his eyes, cupped Poe’s head to him, and sighed. He opened his eyes—and lost his breath all over again at the sight of the crazed tangle of silver whipmarks that stretched across Poe’s entire back and shoulders.

Finn closed his eyes and willed his hands to stop shaking. _God,_ he said. _Spirits of the universe. Please. Let me do the right thing. Let me be what Poe needs. Let him be okay. Please._

“Are you…okay?” Poe asked.

“What?” Finn pulled back to see Poe’s face. “Am _I_ okay? Yeah. Of course. I’m fine. Are you?”

“Finn.”

Finn ducked his head. “I’m fine,” he said again.

“Look.” Poe cleared his throat. “I’ve had—plenty of time to try to get used to this. You haven’t. It’s okay to—to be weirded out.”

“I’m not weirded out. It’s…the same as you said, yeah? It’s not that I’ve never seen scars before. Of course I have. But this is _you._ I…” Finn closed his eyes again and breathed until his hands were steadier. _I want to wrap you into my arms. Make everything okay again. Heal you, just by loving you. Fuck, I wish that were possible._ “I just wish I could help,” he whispered at last.

“Well.” Poe’s breath was a warm puff on Finn’s neck. “I’m okay. I mean—mostly okay. Kind of. Sort of? Better, at least. Much better.”

Finn tried to laugh. “Well. That’s good. Or. Kind of good? Sort of good? Mostly good?”

“Asshole,” Poe snorted.

Finn kissed Poe’s hair, glad to see a real crinkle returning to his eyes. “I just—I’m really glad you’re doing better,” he said. “For a while now, you’ve seemed a bit more comfortable when we’re together now. Less twitchy. Not that there’s anything wrong with being twitchy, just—”

“I know what you mean.” Poe stroked Finn’s arm. “I like making out with you, I’ve liked it from the start, but—but it’s so much easier now. Being less scared of, like. My shirt riding up, or something.”

“Yeah?” Finn grinned so wide his face hurt. “I’m so glad, sweetheart.”

Poe poked Finn’s side. “Because you wanted to see me naked.”

“You know me better than that.”

“I do,” Poe sighed. “Sorry. I meant that as a joke, I—”

“I know.” Finn kissed Poe’s forehead. “It’s okay.”

Poe cuddled closer into Finn’s arms. “Thank you,” he said, nearly too quietly to hear. “So much. For—for—for not freaking out. Or, not much at least. Not out loud. I—I—I never really thought I’d be able to do this.”

“Well,” Finn murmured. “You did. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Poe’s face cracked open into a wondering smile. “Um. That's, um. Thank you. Wow.”

“Whatever I can do to keep you safe—tell me, okay?”

“I will.” Poe kissed Finn, sweet and slow. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

 

 

 

Finn slipped the towel back onto its hook, stepped out of the bathroom, and paused in the doorway to Poe’s room, eyes caught on the glorious sight of Poe’s body still sprawled bonelessly across the bed—dark halo of curls, sharp-cut jaw, strong arms, well-rounded thighs, knee cocked out to the side, foot tangled in the sheets. Poe blinked sleepily out at Finn, then jolted awake and yanked at the sheets to cover himself, mouth pulling tightly at the corners.

“Sorry,” Finn said, breathless. “Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” He stepped towards the bed, then hesitated. “I don’t know if this helps at all, but I want to be clear that I wasn’t staring because of your scars. I was staring because you’re _beautiful,_ Poe, so—”

“You don’t need to flatter me—”

“I’m not saying that to flatter you.” Finn perched on the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t believe it. But it’s _true.”_

Poe nodded, eyes fixed on the pillow.

“Do you want me to step out so you can get dressed?” Finn asked softly.

Poe shook his head and shifted back on the bed to make room for Finn. Finn lay down beside Poe, separated from him by a layer of crisp sheets. He raised a cautious hand and combed back through Poe’s hair, trying to find the peaceful haze that had protected them earlier.

Poe closed his eyes beneath Finn’s hand. “No one else has ever seen me,” he whispered. “Not since then. I don’t—” The lines of his face sagged.

“I know, sweetheart,” Finn murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Poe shook his head. “I didn't mean—I don’t need pity. I just meant—I have a life. I go to work, I take care of myself. I see my friends, and my family. I don’t—I don’t think about my—my body, if I can possibly help it. It’s attached to me, that’s all. When you look at me—” Poe’s brow pinched.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I—” Poe was silent for a long time.

Finn waited.

“Look,” Poe murmured at last. “I’ve spent a long time now working on—on seeing my body without dissociating a little, or having an actual flashback. It’s weird to let another person see me, it’s really weird, it’s scary, but—but you make it easier. So, um. Thank you. It’s weird, when you look at me. But it’s—it’s a good weird. I can imagine…someday…” He fell silent, eyes glinting in the soft light from the bedside lamp.

Finn brushed his thumb over Poe’s cheek. “Do you know what I see?” he murmured. “When I look at you.”

Poe’s eyes finally flicked up to Finn’s.

“I don’t have any way to say this except clichés,” Finn said, holding Poe’s gaze, “so you’ll just have to bear with me. I see the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met. Head to toe. Inside and out.  I know that me saying it won’t help you see it—at least, no more than you telling me I'm a good man helps me believe that. But it’s _true,_ Poe. It’s all true.”

Poe’s mouth quirked up at the edges. “So what you’re saying is that if I feel safe in my body, you’ll believe you’re a good man?”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works,” Finn laughed. “But you are beautiful. _So_ beautiful. I wish I could help you see that.”

“I wish you could see your own self,” Poe murmured.

“Yeah. Well.” Finn shrugged off Poe’s words. “Is there any way I could help?”

“You already do.” Poe took a deep breath, then tugged at the sheet beneath Finn. “Come back to bed with me. Under the covers, I mean.”

“You're sure?”

Poe nodded. Finn slipped beneath the sheet, careful not to touch Poe. Poe bit his lip, then reached for Finn’s hand and tugged. Finn scooted closer. Poe wrapped his arms around Finn and buried his face in Finn’s shoulder. Finn closed his eyes and stroked Poe’s back, overwhelmed by tenderness.

“I had to disconnect,” Poe murmured. “To survive. I still haven’t really learned how to reconnect.”

“So did I.”

Poe nodded, unsurprised. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

Finn shrugged.

“How did you come back?” Poe asked.

“What’s the secret, you mean?”

“Well. What worked for you, at least?”

“Hmm.” Finn rubbed slow circles into Poe’s back. “I don’t know,” he murmured at last. “Bit by bit, I guess? Over time. Time helps. And…good things started happening, really good things. I wasn’t hungry anymore. Wasn’t tired. Wasn’t hurt. People did good things for me. Acted as though I could trust them. As though they trusted me. As though they cared about me. There were so many things I wanted to be present for. Eventually those spread into one long thing. I still disconnect sometimes, but—not all the time, anymore.”

Poe nodded, eyes locked on Finn’s. “I’m glad, buddy. Takes a lot of guts to do that. To be present.”

“For you, too,” Finn murmured. “You’re so fucking brave.”

"Oh, please." Poe rolled his eyes. _“You_ are, buddy. Bravest man I’ve ever met.”

“No. Everything I’ve ever done, it’s because I _had_ to. You didn’t have to show yourself tonight. You _chose_ to. And that’s incredible.”

“After a lifetime of being alone? Of course I had to. I—” Poe cleared his throat. “I haven’t been touched—the way you touch me— _ever._ I _need_ it. I’ve been starving for it for years now, and I—I don’t use that word lightly.  I’ve been looking for someone like you all my life.”

“You haven’t been alone,” Finn said, trying to keep the raw tension from his voice. “You have a _family._ You have friends. You—”

“I’m sorry, buddy. Fuck. I didn’t mean it like—but, fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Finn took a slow breath to pull himself back together. “I know what you meant. I’m sorry you’ve been hurting like that.”

“Yeah. Well. You’re right. I’m sorry. I haven't been alone. I have many people who love me, and I’m—fuck, I’m really grateful for that.”

“But,” Finn said quietly.

“But I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Poe sighed. “Never done anything more than kiss a few times in a bar. Never been touched, or looked at, the way you look at me. I—I feel like I’ve been starving for it.”

“I get that,” Finn said softly.  _I know what it feels like to starve for connection,_ he thought, but there was no way he could convince his mouth to say that out loud.

“Yeah.” Poe bit his lip. “Well. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting, too.”

“Why did you finally decide to try being naked with me, tonight?” Finn asked softly. “What was different?”

Poe stared at his hands. “Because I—I want to make this work. With you. Because it felt right. Still does. Because I feel like you get it. And because I—I feel safe with you.”

“What?” Finn blinked.

“Completely safe.” Poe’s eyes flicked up to Finn’s and held.

“Oh.” Finn stared at Poe.

Poe twined his fingers with Finn’s.

“Really?” Finn’s voice cracked.

Poe kissed Finn, just the lightest of touches. “You earned it, buddy,” he said. “Fair and square. From the very start.”

Finn’s face cracked into a disbelieving smile. “I’m glad. God, Poe. I’m so glad you feel safe with me. That—that—” He swallowed a few times, throat suddenly three sizes too tight. “That means so much to me.”

Poe smiled back. There was something unspeakably sweet in his eyes, something Finn had no words for except—

 _You don’t even know,_ Finn thought _. You have no idea. You don’t know what I’ve—_ Finn bit his lip, hard. “You’re sure,” he whispered.

Poe brought Finn’s hand to his lips, kissed Finn’s knuckles, and—hand trembling slightly on Finn’s—brushed Finn’s hand down his chest, over his scars. “Did I mention,” he rasped, “that you’re the only one I’ve ever trusted to see me? Touch me? Be in bed with me? I am completely fucking sure, Finn.”

“Oh,” Finn said, and hugged Poe. He buried his head in Poe’s shoulder and closed his eyes, throat too tight to speak.


	11. thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy! And many many more thanks to Maeglinthebold for helping me figure things out.

The air was lush between them—unseasonably warm, as it had been for weeks. The lake rippled out from their feet, very faintly violet with the last wave of sunset. A motorboat hummed across the lake, far beyond them, lit with fluorescent blue. Poe’s hand was cool in Finn’s, faintly callused.

“Water’s lovely,” Finn murmured. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a lake as warm as this.”

Poe didn't ask, for which Finn was grateful as always. He remembered the pile of guns by the shore, the way his wet shirt clung to his skin, the relief of being clean, the hooting laughter of the other boys as they wrestled on the shore. He missed it, almost, with a weird twist in his gut. Who knows where the others were now—dead, free, in command, missing?

But he was here now. Finn curled his toes in the cool sand and took a deep breath. He looked over at Poe—and found Poe’s eyes on his already, waiting for him to return.

Poe smiled at him, warm and easy. “Dark enough to see some stars now.” He nodded up at the sky. “Any favorite constellations?”

In the company of his friends from high school, Finn might have said Orion, or Cassiopeia, or any of the others he’d read about in the astronomy book he found at the library. But here, with Poe? “That—cluster, there.” He pointed upward. “Pleiades. Was the first constellation I ever learned. My commander called it Kaza Maiyaya.”

“Kaza Maiyaya.” Poe tried the words out with a soft smile. “I like it.”

Finn snorted. “Not that poetic, really. Just means chicken—no, hen, I guess—with her chicks.”

Poe squinted up at it. “I could see it. All clustered together.” He cocked his head. “Looks kinda like my abuela’s chickens, actually. Before she came here, and had to sell them all off. God, I was terrified of the hens when we visited. I was tiny—six, I guess?—and they looked _huge_ to me. Too many beaks and claws and not nearly enough brains between them all.”

“I know, right?” Finn cackled. “Chickens are so dumb. We found one once, just wandering around, and tried to keep it. Lasted about a day—nah, maybe half a day—until someone got fed up with it and just killed it.”

“Poor thing.”

“Nah. Tasted good.”

Poe laughed. “Well. I suppose I should feel sorry for it, but…I’m not. Glad you got a good dinner.” He turned in a slow circle, face tilted up towards the night sky. “Beautiful, aren’t they? The stars, I mean. Not chickens.”

“Yeah. They are.” Not nearly as bright as the stars above the Sahel, on a clear night. That was the one, and only one, thing he missed about the long walk north. He definitely didn’t miss the nights when the wind picked up, scattering sand across his face, clouding the sky until he couldn’t even see the moon. Waking up covered in sand, scratched and sore, teeth full of grit despite hiding his face beneath his arms all night.

Poe’s hand tightened on his. Finn blinked and fell back to earth.

“Hey,” Poe said, very soft.

“Hey,” Finn replied. There was a line of silver moonlight along the slope of Poe’s nose, falling off into the dark indent above his lip. Finn reached out and traced the moonlight down to Poe’s lips.

Poe kissed Finn’s finger with a soft smile. “Do you want to, um—go swimming?”

“That could be fun,” Finn shrugged. “But I mostly want to just hang out with you. Shore’s good too. It’s so beautiful here.”

“I didn’t mean swimming alone.” Poe gazed out to where the lakeshore sloped up into mountains, black and formless, outlined by stars. His lips twitched into a tentative smile. “Or with clothes,” he added, nearly inaudible.

Finn stared at him. “You’re—” His throat caught. “Sure?”

Poe nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Well.” Finn cleared his throat. “I’m game. You sure it’s private here?”

“Yeah. No houses around here. This place has been a Dameron family secret for generations. Well, okay, one generation, at least.”

“Well, then.” Finn lifted their joined hands and kissed Poe’s fingers. “That sounds like a great idea. Race you in?”

“You’re on,” Poe laughed. Finn turned away to give Poe privacy, then stripped off his clothes, tossed them onto his sandals in a haphazard pile, and slowly waded into the water.

The lake lapped around his ankles like a well-trained housecat, warm and welcoming. Finn waded deeper, and deeper, until he felt like he could float away into the lake, loose-limbed and peaceful. He dove in deep and stayed down as long as he could, feeling the ebb and flow of the water around his body. Punched up to the surface again, flipped onto his back, and closed his eyes.

Soft splash—Finn flipped back upright. Poe was wading into the water, mouth set, eyes locked on Finn. “Feels weird, doesn’t it?” he asked.

Finn shrugged, keeping his eyes on Poe’s. “Good-weird, I hope?”

“Excellent weird.” Poe’s teeth glinted in the moonlight. “Never actually been skinny-dipping before.”

 _“Never?”_ Finn could count on one hand the number of things—ok, _good_ things—he’d done that people here had’t.

“Nah.” Poe was in up to his chest now, water lapping at his clavicle.

“Isn’t that supposed to be part of a normal American childhood?”

“I was, uh. Kinda worried about being naked in front of a bunch of other naked teenagers.” Poe smirked. “You said you’ve never been a kid, but I assume you were fifteen years old once.”

“And got hard as easily as farting?”

Poe threw back his head and laughed, eyes crinkling shut. “Yes,” he gasped. “Oh, god. That’s exactly the right way to put it.”

Finn grinned back, pleased with himself. “Well. Makes sense that you stayed away, then.”

“I mean, it would probably have been fine. I was—kinda paranoid, I guess. And I guess I could have gone on my own, but…it seems like the sort of thing you share with someone.”

“Are you glad you waited?”

Poe’s sharp eyes caught Finn’s and held. “Very.” He held out a hand. Finn took it.

 

 

 

Poe took one last step to bring himself toe-to-toe with Finn. The water surged and ebbed between their bodies, splashing against Finn’s neck, warm as a duvet around his shoulders. Poe cupped the back of Finn’s head in one hand, tugged him closer, and kissed him.

Finn’s lips tasted like the lake, fresh and cool. One half-step closer, and their chests were touching, skin against skin like they were made to fit together, just like this. Finn’s hand settled on the small of Poe’s back. Poe cupped Finn’s cheek in one hand. His other hand slid lower, lower—and settled onto the top curve of Finn’s ass.

Finn smiled into the kiss. His hand tightened on Poe’s shoulder, drawing him in tighter—until Finn suddenly angled his body away. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“What?” Poe’s hand fell to Finn’s shoulder, scarred and gleaming in the moonlight. “Oh.” He was half-hard too, and he hadn’t minded the press of Finn’s growing erection at all.

Poe stepped around to face Finn again and bit his lip, not sure what to say, not sure how to ask, why was there no fucking manual for this _—ha! get it? a fucking manual—_ “Do you want to—” he started, then stopped. “Shit. There’s got to be a sexier word. All I’ve got is…hand job? circle jerk? Frottage?”

“Oh, god.” Finn cracked up and ducked his head to Poe’s shoulder, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I swear. It’s just—the words, yes, they do suck, what kind of nutjob thought those up? They were not designed for seduction. I’m really impressed that you said ‘frottage’ with a straight face because I can’t, no no no, I can’t.” He straightened up, pressing his lips together into some semblance of sobriety. “But I do want to, if you do. Any of those. Whatever you’d like.”

Poe narrowed his eyes at Finn for a moment, but there was nothing but fondness on Finn’s face. The moon arced over the sweet curve of Finn’s smile, gathered in the crinkles of his eyes. Poe traced the line of Finn’s cheekbone, just because he could, and pressed a swift kiss to Finn’s lips.

“Well—” Poe cleared his throat— “that’s, um. That’s good.” He stepped closer. His cock slid against Finn’s. He wasn't sure where to put his hands.

_Dameron. Focus. You know how to do this. You’ve watched enough porn in your life, for fuck’s sake. You’ve done this to your own dick. You can figure this out._

He reached down between them just as the wake from a passing motorboat hit their shoulders, knocking them both off balance. His exploring hand whacked Finn’s dick just as Finn’s hands fell to the small of Poe’s back to steady him. Finn hissed and stumbled back a half-step.

“I’m sorry!” Poe stammered. “Fuck. Oh, god. I’m so sorry.” His gut lurched in embarrassment. _POE FUCKING DAMERON HOW THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU SO FUCKING BAD AT THIS—_

“It’s okay,” Finn panted. “I’m okay.” He breathed slowly and deliberately, holding onto Poe until the pain ebbed.

“I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking—”

“You’re fine, Dameron. Shit happens.”

“Still. I’m so sorry. Um. Maybe I can repay you? With a back rub, or something?”

“Well, I’d never say no to that. But really, Poe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll live.”

“Thank fuck.” Poe leaned his forehead against Finn’s. “I would really miss you.”

“You too.” Finn kissed Poe’s nose, then found his lips again and kissed him. “Anyway, that would be an awful way to go.”

“So true.” Poe laughed a little. “Thank you. Um. Can I kiss it better, or something?”

“I’m okay, Poe. Really.”

“Okay,” Poe sighed, and tried to let it go.

“Anyway,” Finn murmured, “I think you’d drown if you tried to ‘kiss it better, or something,’ right now.”

“Well. Maybe later, then.”

“Mmm, if you want to.”

“Probably will.” Poe swayed closer and linked his arms around Finn’s neck. “God, you feel so good.”

“You too.” Finn slid a hand down Poe’s back, over the whip scars, warm and callused and gentle.

Poe’s breath hitched at Finn’s touch. “Really good,” he whispered. _With you, I almost feel like I still have the body I was born with._ “Fuck. Your hands—”

“Fuck my hands?” Finn smirked. “That sounds like a good idea, too.”

“Mmm?” Poe blinked at Finn. “Yeah? Yeah, um. Wow. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, let’s—yeah, um—can we—”

“Not quite enough blood in your brain, huh?”

“Definitely not.” Poe thunked his head onto Finn’s shoulder.

Finn’s thumbs rubbed small circles into Poe’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he whispered in Poe’s ear. “Take your time.”

“Thank you.” Poe took a deep breath. “Okay. So. Fucking. Yes. Mmm-hmm. Can we? Do you want to?”

“I really want to.” Finn kissed Poe’s temple. “Someone I know might even say, ‘fuck yeah.’”

“Fuck yeah,” Poe agreed. “Oh, fuck. We’re gonna do this.”

“We are.” Finn grinned at Poe.

Poe leaned back into Finn’s secure grip and ran a hand over Finn’s ass. “Beautiful,” he said. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ass man,” Finn replied, lips twitching against a smile. “Such a fucking ass man.”

“Haven’t fucked anyone’s ass yet,” Poe said, drunk on the night air and the stars and the wonderful man in his arms.

Finn blinked at Poe.

Poe grinned at him. “Not tonight,” he admitted, not wanting to lead Finn anywhere he didn’t actually want to go. “But, you know. Maybe someday? If you ever wanted?” His voice cracked on something a little more intense than the banter he had been aiming for.

“I would _love_ to.” Finn brushed his thumb over Poe’s cheek with a sweet smile. “Someday, yeah? Whenever you’re ready. Got plenty of time.”

“Yeah,” Poe managed. “Yeah, we—we really could, huh. Someday.” He stared at Finn, then shook his head to clear it. “So. Um. Fucking. Now. Right. Uh.”

Finn cupped Poe’s cheek in his palm and kissed him, sweet and slow. Poe stumbled closer into Finn’s arms, dizzy with joy. This felt so right, so good, so safe. If he could just stay here for the rest of his life…

Oh, right. Fucking.

Poe reached down far more carefully than before, tracing down the cut of Finn’s hip. Stroked Finn’s cock, slow and easy.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Poe mumbled, drunk on the sweet night air and Finn’s gentle hands.

“You know, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

“If you can still make fun of me, I’m clearly not doing this right,” Poe said, and twisted his stroke a little. Finn’s slow exhale puffed warm by his temple.

“You’re doing just fine,” Finn murmured. He smoothed a hand down Poe’s stomach, followed the line of hair down to Poe’s cock, and gave a slow, experimental stroke.

Poe gasped a little and stumbled closer.

“You okay?” Finn murmured, steadying him.

“Yeah,” Poe panted. “Yeah, I just—yeah. Fuck.” _You going to jump a foot every time he touches your cock, Dameron? Boyfriend. Fucking. Get used to it._

Finn stroked Poe’s cock again, slow and easy. Poe buried his head in Finn’s shoulder and twisted his hand down Finn’s cock again. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulse jumping with nerves. “Do you like this? What should I do?” _Fuck, I shouldn’t have—how am I so fucking bad at this, I’m too old for this, what—_

“Just what you’re doing,” Finn said patiently. “I like that. Are you okay?” He stopped and cupped Poe’s face in his palm, scrutinizing Poe’s face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m scared,” Poe’s mouth said, without any conscious approval from his brain. He bit his lip, hard, trying to find some words to patch up the situation and repair his hopelessly ruined dignity.

“That’s okay.” Finn stepped back half a step. “We don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, I want to make you feel good, I want to learn what works for you. I just—I don’t know—show me?”

Finn watched Poe for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. “What if I tell you?” he asked at last. “And you follow my lead.”

“Okay.” Poe nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, that would help. Thank you.”

“And you’ll tell me, right? If it’s not working for you.”

“Yes. I will.”

“Okay.” Finn wrapped an arm around Poe’s waist to bring them together again. “Then. I liked what you were doing before. Start that again?”

“You mean when I whacked your dick?” Poe stroked Finn’s cock again, twisted over the head.

“Yeah, maybe don’t do that again. The whacking, I mean. But hey, I lived.”

“You did.” Poe wrapped an arm around Finn’s shoulders, thumb brushing down against his scar. “You really did.”

“So did you,” Finn murmured into Poe’s ear, and Poe wasn’t quite sure anymore what they were talking about.

“Yeah. Yeah, we did, we’re here, let’s fuck, I want to see you, I want to see what you look like when you—” Poe’s voice hitched as Finn traced lightly up the crest of his thigh. “Yeah, please, please—”

“I’ve got you.” Finn took hold of Poe’s cock again and stroked it. Poe followed his rhythm, trying to settle into his body, the lake, Finn’s arms. _How is this my life?_

“There you go,” Finn said, voice a little unsteady above the waves. “There. Just like that.”

“Yeah?” Poe’s cheeks flushed. He cupped Finn’s balls in his hand, kissed the lake-wet arc of Finn’s shoulder, and stroked down Finn’s cock again. Finn made that little noise in his throat, the beautiful one, the one that went straight to Poe’s dick, which was in Finn’s hand, which felt _so fucking good—_

“Can we,” Poe said, “can we—” He shifted to take both their cocks in his hand, or tried to, they didn’t both quite fit, but that was okay. Finn’s hand joined his, fingers brushing against Poe’s. The velvet of Finn’s dick was electric against his, the warmth of Finn’s body lined up with his was so—

“Yeah,” Finn breathed, hand shaking a little against Poe’s side. “Yeah, like that, god, Poe—”

Poe pulled back just far enough to find Finn’s mouth with his, kiss him, taste the lake on his tongue. “You,” he said. “You—you’re—”

A set of waves rocked their embrace again. They clung to each other through it, hands still working in tandem. Poe wasn’t quite sure which felt better—the secure wrap of Finn’s arm around his waist, the sweet press of Finn’s tongue, the tight circle of Finn’s hand around his cock, or the easy brush of Finn's fingers against his.

Finn made another noise in his throat, low and fervent. His entire body trembled against Poe’s. Poe stroked their cocks faster, harder, _god, oh god_. With a sudden cry, Finn came, hips jerking into Poe’s hand. Poe closed his eyes, buried his head in Finn’s shoulder, and gave himself over to the rush of Finn’s hand on his cock, the secure warmth of his body, the sweet press of his lips on Poe’s temple. All of it coiled together inside Poe, overwhelming and—

Poe came, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, floating somewhere between water and stars.

When reality finally blurred back into focus, he was still in the lake, naked in Finn’s arms. They were both breathing hard, leaning against each other for support against the murmuring waves.

“Hey,” Poe panted.

“Hey.” Finn stroked Poe’s back. “You still with me?”

“I think so.” Poe blinked at Finn. “God. You—you’re—how do you _do_ that?”

“Was good, huh?” Finn smirked at him.

“Shut up, you.” Poe thunked his head onto Finn’s shoulder. “Was very good. You know damn well how good.”

“‘M glad.” Finn nuzzled into Poe’s hair. “Hope you don’t want to move anytime soon, because I think you fucked my legs right off.”

“Really?” Poe flushed, ridiculously pleased. “Uh. Hmm. Let me check.” He slid a hand down Finn’s ass over his beautiful thighs. “Yep, still there.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Finn heaved a sigh, leaned back a little, and ran his hands down Poe’s shoulders. “Do you still have legs, too? Want to swim for a bit?”

“I, um.” Poe shrugged a little. His post-coital glow was rapidly slipping away, leaving him cold and naked and far too vulnerable in the water. “I’m going to go back to the shore. Um. Do you want to stay out here? Swim for a bit, or something. I can wait.”

Finn held Poe’s eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to float for a bit. You’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Poe took Finn’s hand and kissed it, then waded back to shore, staying underwater until the water grew too shallow to crouch down any further. He stood and walked to shore, desperately trying to remind himself that Finn wasn’t looking at his back, and even if he was, it was okay, it was Finn—

Yeah, okay, not tonight. But he’d managed to stay naked for a long time, and it had been easier. He’d even been able to forget about the scars long enough to get hard, which was a fucking miracle. And he’d come, too, they’d both— Poe stumbled on the sand. _God,_ Finn really was a miracle.

Poe toweled himself dry, yanked his clothes back on, rearranged his hair, and settled onto the beach. He could just barely see the rise of Finn’s chest above the waves, the sweet lines of his profile, the wiggle of his toes. Just floating, staring up at the stars. Peaceful and content.

Beautiful.

Poe followed Finn’s gaze up to the stars and found a distant airplane, winking red and green against the night sky. When it faded from view, Poe blinked back towards the lake, just in time to see Finn emerge—water sluicing from his shoulders, moonlight winking across his cheekbones.

“You are my best audience, you know that?” Finn called to him.

“Anyone who doesn’t appreciate that view is a fucking idiot, as far as I’m concerned.” Poe leaned back on his elbows.

“Likewise.” Finn ruffled Poe’s wet curls, completely destroying their careful arrangement, then swept them back into place. He dried off, dressed, and joined Poe on the towels, staring out at the lake.

“How was floating?” Poe asked.

“Wonderful. So beautiful out there.” Finn leaned against Poe’s shoulder. “How was the shore?”

“Also beautiful. Thinking about important things, like how there are so many more stars out here than in the city, and the way your hands feel on my dick, and whether it’s gross to come in the lake. Which I guess I should have thought about before we started.”

“I mean, fish do it all the time, no? We’re probably always swimming in fish jizz.”

Poe winced. “I really didn’t need that image, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Finn pulled Poe close and kissed his cheek. “Anytime.”

“Asshole.” Poe settled back down to the towels and tugged at Finn’s arm. “Come cuddle?”

“Mmm.” Finn snuggled into Poe’s side. “You’re so cozy.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“A very good thing.” Finn laid his head on Poe’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Poe stroked Finn’s hair and looked up at the stars, wheeling and distant and eerie-bright. Orion, Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Kaza Maiyaya.

 _Thank you,_ he said to the spider. _Thank you, thank you, thank you._


	12. i can do this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. It's done. One more teeeeeny tiny epilogue, which will go up tomorrow, but this is the last full chapter. 
> 
> This fic started with a prompt (dancing, striptease, and losing virginity), which I started to write up as a quick one-shot, in which Finn was just an ex-Marine. Army background, sure, but that stripped him of the most incredible part of his character: choosing to do the right thing, despite being raised to be a mindless weapon. I'm willing to bet a lot of money that TLJ doesn't spend much time letting Finn deal with any of that trauma. I wrote this fic to give him a chance to do just that. If you want the nonfiction version of this chapter, go back to the [author's note](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11743905/chapters/26644971#chapter_3_endnotes) in Finn's fic. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who experiences intrusive thoughts or desires that don’t match their own true selves.
> 
> Warning for discussion of past violence and past ideation of violence.

“Here.” Finn pushed the notebook across the table.

Poe took it with a confused frown. “What is this?”

Finn stared at his hands. “It’s,” he said.

“Finn.” Poe stretched a hand across the table. “Breathe.”

“I wrote it down. A few years ago. They said I should. It would help.”

“Wrote what, sweetheart?”

Finn waved a hand at the notebook, still not meeting Poe’s eyes. “What I did. Then.”

Poe took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Oh.” He glanced down at the notebook, half expecting it to have a spiral made of bullet casings. “When you were a soldier, you mean.”

Finn nodded.

Poe crossed around the table and crouched by Finn’s chair. “Sweetheart.” He held out his arms. Finn didn’t move towards him. “You want me to read it?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Not my call, buddy. This is your story. It’s up to you.”

Finn pulled his worrystone out of his pocket and traced its edges with his thumb, over and over and over again.

“You can think about it, okay?” Poe hugged his arms to his chest. “No rush, we—”

“I’m okay either way.” Finn finally met Poe’s eyes. “It’s up to you. I just thought you should—you should have a chance. If you want to know. This is better than me trying to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Poe bit his lip. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I hug you?” Poe asked softly.

Finn nodded. Poe reached up and carefully wrapped Finn into his arms. Finn leaned heavily against him. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” Poe murmured. “Whatever you did, you're okay. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t need to read it. Nothing you did when you—you had no choice, fuck, you were just a kid—none of that can change the fact that you’re a good man. The best I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah.”

Poe stroked Finn’s back. “Someday you’ll believe that, sweetheart. I know you will.”

“Yeah.”

Poe pulled back a fraction and cupped Finn’s face in his palm.

“I’m trying to,” Finn said.

“That’s all that matters.” Poe brushed his thumb over Finn’s cheek.

Piece by piece, Finn’s face shuttered beneath his Okay mask. “Thank you.”

Poe opened his mouth to try to say something else, anything else, something to help fix the dull cast of Finn’s face—then closed it. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said instead. “I’m really honored.”

Finn nodded. He patted Poe’s back, then turned back to his essay. “I need to get this done now.”

“Okay.” Poe stood with a sigh and returned to his seat. He tapped his keyboard in thought, eyes catching on the clench of Finn’s fingers around his pen. “You’ll tell me when you want to talk, right?”

Finn nodded.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The murky glow of the streetlights cracked through Poe’s blinds, setting up bars for him to step on as he paced the length of his apartment. The night pressed in around him, dark and strangling.

 _Help,_ he begged the spider.  _Help me, please._

His gaze fell on Finn’s notebook, tucked into a corner of his bookshelf. He ran a hand down its spiraled spine. The crisp lines of the wires bit into his finger.

Poe slid the notebook out, sat down at his desk, and stared at it. The light from his internet modem blinked at him. The disjointed voices of a drunk couple filtered up through his windows.

Poe cracked the notebook open and started to read.

Poe got up again, turned on all the lights in his apartment, poured himself a glass of the emergency whiskey he kept in the very back of his cupboards, yanked a blanket around his shoulders, sat down again, and read Finn’s story.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I read it,” Poe said.

Finn stared at Poe blankly for a moment, then jerked back to his side of the couch and pulled his knees to his chest. “And?”

“And I’d really like to give you a hug for the rest of time,” Poe rasped.

“Oh.” Finn blinked at his knees, mouth slightly parted. He pulled out his worrystone and started tracing lines back and forth over the smooth rose surface.

“May I?” Poe asked softly. “Give you a hug, I mean.”

“That’s it?” Finn kept his face tucked into his knees.

 _“Fuck_ no. There’s a lot more I’d like to do to those fuckers, and if you ever want to talk about any of it, that’s—that’s okay, if there’s any way I can help, I’d like to, I—”

“That’s it?” Finn asked again.

“What do you mean?” Poe asked softly.

“You’re not—” Finn’s voice cracked.

“Sweetheart.” Poe’s fingers trembled on the edges of Finn’s vision. “Can I hug you? Please?”

Finn shifted a little closer. Poe folded Finn into his arms and rocked them both. Finn stared at Poe’s shoulder, entirely numb.

“I need to go,” Finn said. He pulled out of Poe’s arms, stumbled to his feet, and went to grab his sneakers by the door.

Poe followed him, hugging his arms to his chest. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say here. Please—”

“I didn’t know you were going to read it.” Finn shoved his feet into his sneakers and started to tie them up.

“I—I thought you said I could read it, I—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Finn. I guess I heard that wrong.”

“No—I mean, yes, I did say that, I just—I—fuck.” Finn shook his head. “You read it? All of it?”

“Yes, last night, I—Finn, breathe. Please.” Poe knelt by Finn and stretched his arms out to hug him again. “I’m so sorry. What can I—”

Finn stood and reached for the doorknob. “I’m going to go for a run.” He stepped out, shut the door before Poe could follow him, and clattered down the stairs in a rush.

 

 

 

Finn pushed himself as hard as he possibly could. His breath burned in his lungs, scraping against the back of his throat. His legs ached, his back ached, his head ached, his chest ached, even his hands ached, chapped with cold. Gloves, he thought distantly. Cold enough for gloves now. Maybe even a running jacket to keep his core warm.

 _Keep it,_ Poe said.  _It suits you._

Finn ran faster. Fallen leaves blurred to gold under his mud-streaked sneakers. He swerved around the corner, sprinted to the lamppost, and kept sprinting as long as he could bear it.

 _You’re trying to run from it,_ Maz said.  _You can never outrun it._

Finn pounded on down the street, dodging dog-walkers and grocery shoppers and stroller-pushers. One more block, then another, and if he ran fast enough, he’d never have to think about this ever again.

 _I didn’t say kill,_ Maz said. _I said fight._

 _I am fighting,_ Finn growled.  _There were so many things I’m fighting for. Peace. Human rights. Learning as much as I can. Being okay, every single fucking day. It’s so fucking hard. I can’t let it hurt Poe, I can’t, I just can’t. Not now, not ever._

Finn watched as the tar of the street changed to the concrete of the sidewalk, then shot forward in a punishing sprint. He closed his eyes for half a second, feeling his limbs stretch into oblivion. His body worked like one single muscle, fluid and alive. He felt  _alive, right, whole_ in a way that he so rarely did, like his body and his heart were right where they need to be. Only when he was running, or dancing, or bantering with Rey, or safe inside in Poe’s arms.

 _I can do this,_ Poe said, hands shaking in Finn’s.

 _Of course you can,_ Finn told him.

When his legs were shaking beneath him, lungs burning in his chest, Finn finally slowed back to a steady run, then a cool-down jog. His feet carried him back to Poe’s door like the stupid fucking idiots they were. Like he was.

Finn bent down into a stretch to ease his aching back. The awning of the sneaker shop down the block rattled in the wind. An young woman brushed past him with her dogs, unlocked the door, and—was she holding the door for him?

Finn blinked at her.

“Wasn’t sure if you were heading out or coming in.” She adjusted her grip on the two bags of shit that swung between her dogs’ leashes and grinned out at him, cheeks reddened by the wind. “But it’s too cold to run outside today, don’t you think? I switched to the treadmill a month ago.”

“I,” Finn said, utterly nonplussed. “Thank you,” he managed at last, and followed her inside.

“I’m impressed.” She started up the stairs. “I’m such a wimp about cold. But I guess once you work up a sweat, it’s all good, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn managed at last. “Uh. It feels good, sometimes. Clears my head.”

“Oh, I feel you. Like you can just leave all the shit in your life behind you, you know?” She turned off towards the floor below Poe’s with a friendly wave. “See you!”

“See you,” Finn said, and trudged on up the stairs to Poe’s floor.

 _You can carry dog shit in plastic bags,_ Finn told her.  _Life shit doesn’t work like that. It sticks to you. Never leaves._

Finn trudged up the stairs. The lonely thunk of his sneakers on the stairs was nothing like the bright clip of Poe’s shoes behind him, stumbling when Finn swayed his hips a little.

 _Use what you’ve got,_ Finn said, and smirked at Poe.

 _You didn’t need to do anything special, buddy,_ Poe said, eyes wide.  _You’re doing just fine as you are._

Finn halted in front of Poe’s door, dripping with sweat, and gingerly tested the knob—it was already unlocked. He cracked the door open to find Poe sitting at the table, face buried in his hands.

Poe startled upright in his chair as Finn walked in.

“I’m sorry,” Finn croaked. He kicked off his sneakers, then stepped toward Poe. “I shouldn’t have run out. I shouldn’t have left you, just—in the middle of this.”

Poe nodded, brow pinched. “I’m sorry for reading the notebook.”

“No.” Finn rubbed his face and tried to find the right words. “No. You were right to do that. I gave it to you. I said you could read it if you wanted to. And I meant it. I—I just—when you said it, just now. I was—surprised? And—” Finn bit his lip.

“Scared?” Poe offered quietly.

Finn nodded. “I’m sorry for running out. It’s just—easier, sometimes. To think. To get a handle on everything. When I’m running. Clears my head.”

“I get that. It’s okay. Can I, um, add that to your manual?”

“Yeah.” Finn shifted in place, one step away from racing back down the stairs. “Is it all right if I take a quick shower?”

“Of course. Do you want me to bring you your sweats?”

“Sit, I can find them.” Finn touched Poe’s shoulder as he passed by, the closest he could get to a hug at the moment. “Thank you.”

 

 

 

Fresh clothes on. Worrystone in his pocket. Hair managed. Finn took a deep breath and stared at himself in Poe’s mirror.

 _There are a lot of things I want to fight for,_ Finn told Maz.  _This is one of them._

“Mo ti le ṣe eyi,” he whispered to himself. _I can do this._

The tense eyes staring back at him didn’t agree. He held up a rude hand to his reflection, flipped a finger at it too—just for good measure—and stepped back out to face Poe.

 

 

 

Poe was still sitting at the table, mouth hidden behind his steepled hands. Finn stopped short at the sight of a tall glass of water beside Poe, accompanied by Finn’s usual post-run peanut butter sandwich. Finn swallowed hard, maybe made a small noise in his throat. Poe looked up, eyes dark and hooded.

“Hey,” Finn murmured.

“Hey.” Poe shifted back in his seat and clasped his hands in his lap. “How are you?”

“You made this? For me?” Finn nodded at the table.

“Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to eat it or anything, I just…I thought you might…you usually…”

“Thank you.” Finn sat beside Poe, awkwardly too close and too far at the same time. “It’s nice of you.”

Poe’s shoulders jerked up in a quick shrug. “It’s no problem.”

Finn took a deep gulp of water, then wrapped his hands around the glass and stared down at the rippling water. “It doesn’t bother you?” Finn asked quietly. “The notebook.”

“Of  _course_ it bothers me. It’s fucking  _horrifying._  It’s awful that it happened to you, Finn. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could—”

“No.” Finn shook his head. “No, I mean—it doesn’t bother you that the—the things I did—”

“The things they  _made_  you do.”

“I still did them.”

“You had no choice.” Poe’s chair shifted to angle towards Finn. “Look, Finn. I’m so sorry I read it. I—”

“No.” Finn forced himself to look up at Poe. “It’s okay. I gave it to you. I meant it. I just—I—I don’t think I really thought this through. I thought I would be okay—I needed to—shouldn't have—”    

“It’s one thing to decide that you want to strip,” Poe said quietly. “And another thing entirely to be naked in front of your boyfriend.”

Finn blinked at him. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, that’s—yeah. It is.”  

“I can’t unread it. I’m sorry. But I can give it back to you, burn it, try to forget it. Never talk about it again.”

“No,” Finn said again, stronger this time. “I—yeah, I do regret giving it to you, a little, but—but—but I’m glad I did. I  _needed_ to.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Poe asked softly.

“A long time.” Finn looked down at the table. “A really long time.”

Poe stretched out a hand to Finn. Finn hesitated, then accepted it.

“What you did back there—” Poe’s voice cracked. “It wasn’t your fault, buddy. That wasn’t  _you._ That was the person they stole when he was too young to know what was going on. The person they drugged and controlled and abused. Not  _you,_ fuck, that’s— _none_ of that is your fault.”

Finn nodded.

“You don’t believe me.”

Finn shook his head.

“Look,” Poe rasped. His hand tightened on Finn’s. “I know I—I can’t convince you. That’s for you to work out with yourself. But—I don’t know what to say, Finn. I wish I could show you the Finn I see. The good man you are.”

Finn stared down at their joined hands.

“Why did you give it to me?” Poe asked quietly.

Finn took a slow breath, then let it out. “I wanted you to have a chance to know me. If you wanted to. All of me. The real me.”

Poe folded his other hand around Finn’s.  _“This_ is the real you, too. The you that knows that running helps you clear your head when something feels too big to handle. The you that comes back and apologizes. Talks it out.  _That’s_ you too, Finn.”

There was a sweet light in Poe’s eyes that warmed Finn from the inside out like a belly full of soup. He closed his eyes, not ready to see it. “All of it,” he said. “Everything in the notebook. Everything you read.  _I_ did it. Maybe they controlled me, fuck, but  _I_ did it.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Poe’s lip trembled. “I know. And I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I could go back in time and save you, and all of your squadmates. Bring you somewhere you could be safe, and loved, and protected.”

“You can’t.”

“I know,” Poe whispered. When Finn looked up again, Poe’s eyes glinted with tears. “I know, sweetheart.”

Finn withdrew his hand from Poe’s, wrapped it around his glass again, and took a sip of water.

He’d been so terrified that Poe would read the notebook and run away screaming, he’d never even stopped to wonder what would happen if Poe stayed. If Poe looked Finn in the eye and calmly said that he still believed that Finn was a good person. That he still cared about Finn.

What the actual  _fuck._

It didn’t help now any more than it had helped when Rey and Fatimatou and his therapist had said the same thing. It was _probably_ better than the run-away-screaming response, but not much better. Honestly, it was just more confusing. Was Poe lying? Was nothing real? What the fuck was happening?

He had a boyfriend who believed in him and cared about him, despite all reason. A boyfriend who was sitting next to him right now, trying to discreetly wipe away his tears before Finn saw them, as though Finn would ever miss a detail like that.

A foster mother, too, and a best friend, and all of his other friends. Was there something wrong with all of them for believing in him, or something wrong with him for not believing them?

It was one thing to be naked in front of his boyfriend. It was another entirely to let himself be seen.

“I belonged, though,” Finn found himself saying. “I belonged there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was good at it. I was their best shot. The strongest wrestler. They were going to make me a captain.”

“Not surprised. You’re good at just about everything you do.”

Finn pulled his worrystone out of his pocket with a shaking hand. His thumb blurred over it. It was different than the smooth patch on his gun, but not different enough—imbued with a beautiful bright sunrise-pink, cut through with white choke-chains. The stone burned through his palm like the hot muzzle of a just-fired rifle.

“Sometimes I dream that I’m back there,” Finn said.

Poe’s breath hitched.

“They find me, and kidnap me, and drag me back. And I refuse to fight, so they kill me—they shoot me, and leave me, like they did to—” Finn bit his lip, hard.

“I know,” Poe croaked. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. So. I bleed out, in the middle of the camp. Everyone walks by me—even Slip s-sometimes, he’s alive again and he looks at me and walks on by and I die there, completely a-alone.”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Sometimes I dream that I kill them, instead of going back. I sh-shoot them, there’s a g-gun in my hands. They die, their b-brains explode, and I don’t feel bad.”

“They  _abused_  you, Finn. They massacred civilians. Destroyed half of your country. You have no reason to feel bad about killing them, especially not in dreams—”

“Sometimes I dream that I have to march with them, and fight with them, and kill with them, and everything is burning, and I’m—I’m trapped there, forever.”

Poe reached out for Finn’s hand. Finn flinched back. Poe clasped his hands in his lap. Finn closed his eyes. His ears rang with percussion deafness in the silent kitchen. All he could hear was Poe’s ragged breathing, and his own.

“What else?” Poe asked softly.

Finn looked up.

“What else did you want to tell me?” Poe asked again, eyes fixed on Finn's.

“It doesn’t bother you.”

“‘Bother’ doesn’t even  _begin_ to cover it,” Poe rasped. “But it seems like you need to tell me. And I want to know you. The real you. So. If this feels like the real you, then—then tell me, please. Whatever you need to say. I want to hear it.”

“You’re sure.”

Poe nodded. His face was streaked with tears, but his eyes were steady on Finn’s.

Looking into Poe’s eyes felt a little bit like tumbling upwards into the night sky over the Sahel.

Finn’s free hand inched closer to Poe. Poe opened his hand, fingers splayed outward, palm up between them. Finn’s fingers twined into Poe’s and closed tightly.

“Sometimes I dream that I chose to return,” Finn whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “That I’m leading a new brigade. Stealing ch-children. I dream that I  _want_  to be back, and I’m killing, and burning, and it—it feels good, fuck, it feels so good. Better than anything else in the world.  That’s—that’s—” Finn’s voice cracked.  _“That’s_ the worst dream I ever have.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Poe’s face crumpled.

“Sometimes.” The worrystone would crack if Finn gripped it any harder. “Sometimes—” He shook his head, throat too tight to speak.

Poe opened his arms to Finn. Finn toppled forward to meet him. They met between the two chairs, stretched and compressed into a fervently awkward hug.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Poe whispered, voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.”

Finn stared at the kitchen floor, faintly surprised to find his own eyes blurring with tears. His back twinged quietly, then again, louder. He straightened out of the hug, but took Poe’s hands instead. “Can we go to the couch?”

“Of course.”

Poe followed Finn across the apartment to the absurdly huge red couch they’d cuddled on so often. Finn shoved his worrystone back into his pocket, stretched out along the couch, and scooted backward to make room as Poe lay down beside him. He rested his forehead against Poe’s and tried to slow his breathing. Poe’s arms were warm and safe, everything he’d ever wanted. He’d be okay, really. He just had to stop thinking and feeling.

“Is this the first time you’ve shown the notebook to someone?” Poe murmured.

“No. I showed it to Rey. And Fatimatou. Well, and my therapist, obviously.” Finn’s lips twitched up a little. “Fatimatou reacted basically like you did, I guess. Although she didn’t—didn’t ask for the rest. Just cried. Told me it wasn’t my fault. Rey just hugged me for about forty-five minutes straight. She doesn’t really do feelings, but she’s really good at hugs.”

Poe laughed quietly.

“You’re—” Finn’s voice dropped below a whisper. “The third person I’ve told about the dreams, I guess. My therapist, and Rey. That’s all.”    

“I’m honored,” Poe murmured. “That you trust me. With the notebook, too. And I’m so fucking sorry you have dreams like that, sweetheart. Wish I could give you some good ones.”

“Yeah.” Finn’s shoulders jerked in a half-shrug. “Well.”

Poe stroked Finn’s back. “Is there anything else?” he asked at last. “That you wanted to tell me.”

Finn closed his eyes. The clock ticked on the sideboard. Poe’s breath synced with Finn’s, slow and steady.

“Sometimes,” Finn whispered. “Only a few times, but it’s—it’s happened, I—I can’t make it stop, the thoughts just—they come, and I can’t—I can’t—”

“Breathe. Breathe, buddy. Please.”

“Sometimes,” Finn rasped, struggling to get the words out before they choked him. “When—when I’m awake. I still want to go back there.”

Poe froze for a long moment, a few hours, maybe a day or two.

Finn stopped breathing entirely.

 _“Fuck,”_ Poe rasped at last, arms tightening around Finn. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.” He brushed his thumb over Finn’s cheek, catching the errant tears. “It’s not your fault. I promise you. I know you’d never act on them. You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met. You’re going to be a fucking peace activist, for god’s sake. Thoughts like that, they’re just—the shit that got left behind. They’re not  _you.”_  

Finn nodded.

Poe cupped Finn’s face in his hands. His mouth worked for a moment, as though searching for words. “Sometimes—” He bit his lip hard, then pressed on. “It’s not the same, but—sometimes I wish I was back, too. In the—the—the cell. Wouldn’t have to worry. Wouldn’t have to wonder. Would deserve what I had. The brain does stupid things, sometimes. Stuff that doesn’t make any actual sense. Wants things you would never,  _ever_ want in real life. Not if you had any choice about it. It’s not your fault. way I see you.”

Finn nodded again.

Poe’s lips twitched up in a tired not-quite-smile. “How can I help, sweetheart? Is there anything I can do?”

Finn buried his face in Poe’s shoulder. “It doesn’t bother you,” he whispered.

Poe stroked Finn’s back. “Nothing you ever say,” he murmured, “about what you did. Or what you still think about, because of what they did to you. None of that can ever change the person you are.”

Which was bullshit, of course. Fucking bullshit.

Poe even seemed to mean it, just like Rey and Fatimatou and his therapist had. They knew, and somehow they still believed that Finn was a good person. As though they knew who he was, just like his commanders had known what he was. They all looked at him, and they all saw different things, and where was the truth?

It didn’t matter how many nice things Poe said. Whether or not Poe—or any of them—ran away screaming, Finn would still be here, in his own head, in his own life. Stuck with a brain that showed him technicolor images of what he was meant to be. Nothing would change.

And that was it, wasn’t it.

It was one thing to let himself be seen. It was another entirely to turn around, and squint, and try to see himself.

Finn breathed in, breathed out, and he was still there, lying on Poe’s ridiculous couch, legs tangled up with Poe’s, hair still damp from his shower.

“Oh,” Finn said.

“Oh?” Poe’s brow crinkled in confusion.

“Oh,” Finn agreed, eyes stinging with unfamiliar tears.

At the end of the day, there had always been a moment when he had been finally allowed to take the gun down off of his back and sleep. His body had always felt weird without it—untethered, unanchored. Like he could float away into the clouds, far above the bloody mess of his life.

Finn took a deep breath for the first time in months, let it out in one shuddering rush, and set his gun down. He buried his face in Poe's shoulder and clung to Poe. Poe hugged him tightly.

Finn leaned back to look at Poe’s face, just to check his sincerity.

Poe looked at him with the same fucking goddamn beautiful eyes as always. Somewhere between the gold flecks of Poe’s irises and the deep wells of his pupils, Finn could see his own reflection.

“Thank you,” Finn rasped. He buried his head in Poe’s shoulders, not ready to say the rest of the words in his mouth. _“Thank_ you.”

 

 

 

Finn: Do you have time to teach me tomorrow morning? I’m going to take you up on your offer now.

Rey: [seventeen confetti emoji, twenty-four glitter emoji, and a stack of pancakes]

Rey: I always have time for you, peanut. And I want to hear EVERYTHING.

Rey: I’ll text you a grocery list

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Poe woke up straight into a panic attack. This was, of course, his favorite way to greet the morning, and an excellent omen for the day.

Inevitable after the stress of talking to Finn about the notebook? he wondered, dazed and nauseous. He pulled his knees up to his chest, counted to 100 and then back down again. Tried to pull oxygen back into his lungs. Tried to remind himself that he wasn't, in fact, dying. Tried to fit himself back into something vaguely resembling calm.

Eventually he opened his eyes, drained and shaky. Finn was gone, of course. Poe stared at the spot where Finn’s clothes had been piled last night and allowed himself a minute to feel the loss. Put his head in his hands, swallowed past the burn in his throat.

Finn never snuck out in the night, not like this. No noise from behind the open door to the bathroom. No post-it note on Poe’s nightstand. No blinking light on Poe’s phone.

Gone.

At least Finn had stayed after the whole stripping thing, Poe thought, still numb with panic. He couldn’t have asked for someone more considerate for his first time. He’d gotten over that hump, maybe he could put himself out there again for someone else.

Like he would ever want someone else.

Love someone else.

Maybe Finn would come back, someday? Maybe they could work things out?

 _You can’t love someone who doesn’t want to be loved,_ he’d told Jess, after her latest nasty breakup.  _Who doesn’t think they deserve it._

Poe rubbed his hands over his face, desperately trying to calm himself down. Pulled in a long, slow breath—

And ran to the door of his bedroom, yanked it open, and stared out into his apartment.

Finn turned from where he stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, clad only in his boxers. His clothes were piled on top of his sneakers, airing out from what must have been an early-morning run. “Good morning,” he said, with a smile that flipped Poe’s soul rightside out again.

“I smelled pancakes,” Poe said at last, hoarse. “Good morning. I love you.”

Finn blinked. Slid the last pancakes onto a plate. Flicked off the burner. Stared at the stovetop. Turned to Poe, eyes wide.

“Please say something,” Poe croaked.

“Poe,” Finn said. “I love you too.” He crossed the room and stopped before Poe. “I—”

Poe grabbed Finn into his arms, swung him around, and dipped him into a kiss, fierce and sweet and full of promise.


	13. your eyes

Iyanu turned on the TV a few minutes before the next episode of Tinsel came on.

“Can you check the news first, please?” Sindara said, settling onto the couch beside her. “Just for a few minutes, I wouldn’t dream of coming between you and Tinsel.”

“I knew you were a smart man."

Sindara grinned at her. “I just wanted to see what’s going on. Everyone was talking about this fuss in Lagos this morning, a march or something? Government’s talking to a bunch of Americans.”

The camera cut from an old white woman to the young man sitting next to her as the news anchor asked him a question. He leaned in towards the microphone and began to tell his story—quietly, simply, and as neatly censored as anyone else on TV. 

Sindara sighed. “Enough about the militias already. Do you want me to change the channel? Tinsel’s about to start—”

“Shh.” Iyanu leaned towards the TV.

“Didn’t you want to watch—”

_ “Listen _ to him.” Iyanu’s voice cracked. 

“I don’t want to listen to this, are you crazy? I’ve heard enough about the kids. I don’t want to hear another—” Sindara stopped short. 

The young man on TV spread his hands to illustrate a point, back straight in the fancy stage chair, eyes locked on the camera. 

Iyanu reached for Sindara’s hand. Sindara clutched it between both of his.

“He has your mouth,” she said.

“And your eyes,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And.....that's it. Thanks so much for coming along for the ride, friends. It means the world to me. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~(I should probably note that while I would LOVE to continue this rude teaser of an epilogue into an actual fic, I have many more fics to work on before I get a chance to come back to this 'verse.)~~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated! <3 you all.


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